New and Improved
by Scribbler
Summary: Set just before the start of Season Two, this is a little foray into what the New Mutants' first day at the Institute could have been like, and an attempt to characterise some characters the scriptwriters ignored. Spin-off from 'JTWYA. [Complete fic]


DISCLAIMER: Theirs is theirs, mine is mine. As a child I was taught to share.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Living in England, I only recently watched the start of the second season. Consequently, I noticed that there was no scene concerning when the new mutants actually *arrived* at the Institute, just them playing around merrily like they'd always lived there. So here is a little foray into what their first day together *could* have been like, and an attempt to characterise some characters the scriptwriters ignored. It draws on comic-verse, Evo-verse, and rather heavily on InterNutter-verse (which I hope will not get me into trouble with the webmaven herself, as it's meant to be a compliment), as well as my own twisted imagination. Welcome to Scribbler-verse.  
  
For those in the know, this is a spin-off from a ficlet in my other project 'Just The Way You Are', and yes, I'm fully aware that I can't enter my own competition, but this thing refused to stay out of my head until I'd written it. No U-turns permitted.  
  
___________________  
  
  
'New And Improved' By Scribbler  
February 2003  
  
___________________  
  
  
'The best thing about the future is that it comes only one day at a time.' -- Abraham Lincoln  
  
  
___________________  
  
  
  
The huge black van smoothed to a halt with nary a squeak or grind, and before the engine had even been cut, the sliding door in its side was open for its passengers to egress.  
  
First out was a blonde girl of ostensibly questionable morals, judging by her outfit and tawdry make-up. She carried a single gaudy pink backpack on one shoulder, and shielded her face as she stared critically up at the imposing building they'd stopped at.  
  
"*This* is the Xavier Institute?" she sniffed, wrinkling her nose. "I would've expected something flashier for a guy with that much cash to burn."  
  
"This ain't enough for ya?" exclaimed a tall, sandy haired boy who peeled himself out of the van in her wake. He spoke with a light southern drawl, and had the name 'Sam' embroidered in numerous places on his luggage by an over-zealous mother.  
  
The blonde turned to him. "You impressed?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Well, *I'm* not!"  
  
Both of them groaned. "The day you're impressed by something other than yourself, Princess, there'll probably be a parade," sniped the girl, pointedly turning her back on the next passenger to emerge.  
  
Amara, First Princess of Nova Roma, exited the vehicle with a look of disgust etching her pretty features, leaving her copious baggage and matching suitcases to follow after in the begrudging hands of an oriental girl and small, meek looking boy of about twelve or so. They grumbled profusely, trying to lug along both her bags and their own, with differing amounts of success.  
  
"Hey, how come we got stuck being Her Royal Highness' personal slaves?" groused the boy, who sported a baseball cap with 'Knicks Rule' emblazoned across the front in yellow bubble font. He already had three pieces of his own luggage to contend with, and was virtually swamped with Amara's also, to the point where he staggered about, unable to see where he was going.  
  
"You got me," replied the other 'slave'. She paused for a moment to blow a large pink bubble that popped messily all over her left cheek. "Urgh. Perhaps because, unless we did, she'd never shut up about setting her family on us?"   
  
"I'm beginning to think," the Knicks fan said, struggling with several sets of handles, "That would be preferable." He promptly slipped and landed, face-first, in the contents of a suitcase that chose that exact moment to spew open all over the tarmac.  
  
Amara turned. "My *possessions*!" she screeched, running back to them. Ignoring the fallen boy, she started scooping up enough coats, jackets and other random items of raiment to clothe a small army. "How could you be so *careless*! They'll all be *ruined* now! I should have you severely *punished* for this."  
  
"Wouldn't have happened if you'd carried your own stuff, kid," said a gruff voice from the driver's seat. The darkened window rolled down to reveal an angular, stubble-encrusted face. "Jamie ain't a donkey, y'know. Jubilee neither."  
  
"Here, here!" Jamie said, punching a fist in the air. He scrabbled to his feet and extracted himself from the pool of clothes. "I'm going on strike!"  
  
"Me too," exclaimed Jubilee, dumping the remainder of royal bags next to their owner.   
  
"You can't do that! I forbid it!" Amara cried, but her words were met by a careless gesture.  
  
"Talk to the hand, girlfriend, because the face ain't listenin'." And with that, Jubilee strode off to join Sam and the blonde girl at the foot of the steps leading up to the front entrance of the Xavier Institute.  
  
Jamie scurried after her. "Yeah. What she said."  
  
The man in the front seat of the van laughed aloud at Amara's bemused expression. "Can't say I didn't warn ya, kid." He shifted it into gear, "I'm gonna go park this thing in the garage. Chuck said he'd have some kinda welcoming committee waitin' for ya. Just head right on in and make yourselves at home."  
  
Amara coughed in the plume of smoke that accompanied his departure. The exhaust pipe was just on her level, and she got a face-full of evil-smelling fumes that make her breath wheeze and eyes water in no small amounts.  
  
The blonde girl adjusted the strap on her backpack and let out a breath. "Well, you heard the man. Let's move it, shall we?"  
  
Jamie peered up the stairs. "It's an awful big place," he murmured.  
  
She shrugged. "I've seen bigger. Come on." And she started up the steps, only to pause when a large brown shape came bounding down the stairs they could see beyond the glass doors and skidded to a stop on the other side, narrowly avoiding a sharp smash to the cranium courtesy of the pane and the obviously polished floor.  
  
"Is that a.... dog?" asked Jamie, taking a step backwards.   
  
Sam, being from the country and a little better versed in matters of the animal, shook his head. "Naw, that ain't no dog. That critter's a... a wolf?" He boggled as the creature he'd just deemed as canine shuddered, outline blurring like a rock dropped in water and then reforming into the shape of a pretty, pigtailed girl with short red hair and a mischievous grin.  
  
She pushed open the door and waved down at them. "Hey there! You must be the new guys."  
  
The 'new guys' nodded, and she pattered down to vigorously shake each one of them by the hand. "Name's Rahne. Rahne Sinclair. Also known as Wolfsbane, for obvious reasons." She winked. Her accent was foreign, and the more experienced among them placed it as Scottish.   
  
Sam, who was at that moment in danger of having his arm pumped right off at the shoulder, repeated; "Wolfsbane?"  
  
Rahne nodded. "Aye, it's my codename. You'll all get one in due course, I expect. Mr. Logan kinda likes everyone to have one, although Jean's lack thereof is a bit of a mystery to everyone. Bar herself, of course. And she's yet to let even the *old* recruits in on that little secret, let alone us newer models - "  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold it right there," the blonde girl called out, and Rahne skittered to a halt at the bottom of the steps, just as she was headed towards Amara. "First of all, you're talking too fast for even *me* to understand. And second of all, if you go near her, you're liable to get you tail singed off."  
  
Rahne scooted back a little at the furious look Amara duly flashed her way. "Hi, Rahne Sinclair," she greeted from a safer distance. "And you are?"  
  
Amara tossed back her shiny black hair that looked like it'd come straight out of a L'Oreal advert and sniffed as if she'd just stepped in something nasty. "Lady Amara, First Princess of Nova Roma."  
  
"Ignore her," advised Jubilee, coming up behind Rahne and jutting out a hand. "We all do, and we've only known her since the airport. The name's Jubilation Lee, but everyone just calls me Jubilee. Or Jubes, but I'm not so sure I like that one." She wrinkled up her nose.  
  
Rahne laughed. At least, they thought it was a laugh, but it came out sounding more like a bark. "Right. Jubes it is, then," she said, shaking the proffered limb. In an instant she'd moved on to Jamie, who shrank back at her approach.  
  
"Are you a werewolf?" he asked, trying to get behind Sam and failing miserably because the taller boy kept moving aside.  
  
Another barking chuckle. "Nah, I'm a mutant, just like the rest of you. Lycanthrope's just part of my mutation. Like my enhanced sense of smell." She tilted her nose heavenwards and took a long sniff. "I'm guessing, L'air du Temps?"  
  
The blonde girl blinked. "Uh.... Yeah. But how did you -?"  
  
Rahne tapped the side of her nose. "The nose knows, OK?" she grinned. Then blinked. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch your name. You are?"  
  
"Tabitha. Tabitha Smith."  
  
Rahne turned to Sam, raising an eyebrow at his labelled baggage. "I'm guessing that either your name's Sam, or you picked up the wrong bags." He nodded, then shook his head, and finally settled on a look caught between bewildered and intimidated.  
  
Rahne grinned and transferred her attention to the cowering bundle deposited firmly behind the southern boy's legs. "And you are?"  
  
One eye peeped out. "J-J-Jamie Madrox."  
  
Rahne flashed a wolfish grin at Sam - making him blush, it has to be said - and crouched down to Jamie's level. "You wanna come meet the others with me? Promise I won't bite. You can tell me about your powers as we go."  
  
The eye blinked uncertainly. "Promise?"  
  
She made a crossing motion across her chest. "Mutant's honour."  
  
"Well," Jamie crawled out. "I *guess* that's all right, then." Tentatively he took her hand, and she gave him a comforting smile before tracking back up the steps to the front doors, Sam and Jubilee following a little distance behind and Tabby falling into step by her side.  
  
However, the wolf-girl paused halfway up and looked back over her shoulder to where Amara was still stuffing clothes haphazardly into a suitcase and grumbling profusely on the driveway.  
  
"Shouldn't we help her?"  
  
Sam glanced back. "After the way *she's* been acting? Not likely."  
  
Rahne screwed up her face. "Aye, but... well, we all gotta live together from now on, right? So it'd probably be better to start things off on a better foot than leaving her in the dirt."  
  
Jubilee sent her a calculating look, and then rolled her almond shaped eyes. "Oh, all *right*," she repined, and turned to descend the steps again. As she passed Sam one hand darted out and grabbed his arm. "Hang on a minute there, boyo, you're not getting out of this that easily." She dragged him down the steps and stopped in front of the princess. "Need a hand?"  
  
"*Fi*nally," Amara stood up, dropping her bags with an air of finality. "You can pick these up for a start, and - "  
  
"I said a *hand*, not a slave. We'll each take some bags - you included."  
  
Amara frowned, but since the offer was in danger of being retracted otherwise, bent down again and gripped a backpack and a suitcase. Albeit grudgingly. "Honestly," she muttered as she stalked past. "A princess made to carry her own luggage? It's unheard of. It's *unseemly*! I should have your heads for this, you.... you *peasants*."  
  
Sam watched her go. "Our resident little ray of sunshine, huh?"  
  
"Shuddup and carry some bags, Guthrie. I'm not doing all the donkey-work"  
  
~ ^_^ ~  
  
"And this is Roberto DaCosta, Bobby Drake and Ray Crisp," Professor Xavier, a bald, wheelchair-ridden man in his early to mid-fifties gestured at the three youths lounging against the wall of the Rec. Room. "Also known as Sunspot, Iceman and Berzerker. They've only been here since yesterday, so you'll all be getting the 'grand tour' as it were, together."  
  
The cluster of new arrivals waved at them, which they responded likewise to. All except Tabby, however. She sashayed up to Ray, a sullen-looking boy with two-tone hair that couldn't seem to decide between spikes or stubble, and chucked under his chin with something approaching a sultry smile.  
  
"Berzerker, huh? Sounds like an interesting codename. Mind telling me how you acquired it?"   
  
Ray, to his own chagrin, turned beet red and mumbled something about having a temper. Tabby's expression immediately switched to one of mock-disappointment.  
  
"Aw, whassamatter? Cat got your tongue? You're not afraid of little old me, are you?"  
  
"You bet your ass he is," sniggered the one called Roberto under his breath, earning himself one of Ray's patented death glares and the mental promise of a scorched backside later.  
  
"Now, if you'll follow me." The Professor indicated through another set of double doors that led out of the room, and led them through a network of corridors and out onto what could only be described as a patio a la Ancient Greece; replete with stone columns and small marble cherubs. "The others should be around here somewhere," he looked about expectantly. "I told them you'd be arriving today, and to wait in the - "  
  
"Incoming!"  
  
The new voice was high-pitched with warning, and as one the new recruits looked up to see something long, thin and pointy hurtling through the air toward them. Amara squealed, covering her head, and Jamie wasn't far behind her. The.... whatever it was, flew with deadly accuracy in the Professor's direction, and a chorus of shouts rent the air behind him as the cluster of children watched their new guardian face impalement in his far-too-slow wheelchair.  
  
{CHUNK}  
  
"Got it!"  
  
Amara unsqueezed her eyes at yet another voice, and was surprised to see a statuesque redhead walking sedately towards them with arm outstretched. As she grew closer, they saw that she was frowning, handsome features contorted into a mask of concentration that was highlighted by a twitching right eyebrow.  
  
The tall girl reached them and casually plucked what appeared to be a huge wooden spear out of the air from where it had been hovering, its point inches away from Xavier's nose. The bald man nodded at her, though his expression was a little flushed. Well, what could you expect when you'd had a messy and unpleasant death stopped in its tracks with milliseconds to spare?  
  
"Thank you, Jean," he said, with no uncertain amount of sincerity. Then he turned to the new kids. "Children, allow me to introduce Jean Grey, one of my first ever students here at the Institute and your new teammate. Jean, this is Jubilee, Amara, Jamie, Sam and Tabitha. You already know Ray, Bobby, Roberto and Rahne."  
  
"Yeah, we met when they arrived yesterday. Or last week, in Rahne's case." The redhead raised one hand in a casual wave, the other being preoccupied holding the spike. "Hey," she said, a little distracted. "Sorry about that Professor, I've *told* Evan not to play around with these things, but - "  
  
"*Excuse* me!" Tabby's arms were folded, and her left foot tapped at the ground in patent annoyance. "Far be it for me to break up this little howdy-doody, but what the *hell* just happened here?"  
  
Jean and the Professor exchanged pointed glances, and the latter sighed. "I'm telekinetic," Jean explained. "I can move objects around simply by using my mind. I can also stop them, too." She twirled the spike to demonstrate, letting go of it at eye level. It stayed exactly where it was.  
  
Jamie's mouth fell open. "*Cool*. Could you make *me* hover like that?"  
  
Jean laughed. "Maybe, but I'd probably pass out afterwards. People are kinda heavy, and my powers are still developing. That's why I'm here at the Institute, to learn about my mutation and a bit more control. I'm assuming that's why you're all here, too."  
  
"Not me," Tabby tossed her head and rammed a fist against one curvaceous hip. "Got my powers completely in check. No problems here." She grinned at Jean in a disconcerting, almost challenging way.  
  
Jean frowned, but a glance from Xavier told her to let it go, so instead she grabbed back the spike and held a hand to her temple. "I'm also a telepath."  
  
"Like the Professor?" Jubilee asked. It was a valid question, and the others all nodded their agreement, curious of the answer. All of them knew the vast extent of Xavier's telepathy, since for the most part it had convinced their parents he wasn't just some crock spinning stories in their living room, but a real, honest to goodness mutant with a school for mutants that had a place for their budding offspring should they choose to accept it.  
  
However, Jean shook her head. "No, nowhere near as powerful, but I can still sense things. Like people trying to sneak away from the scene of a crime - Evan!" She twisted her head to a small patch of shrubbery behind a marble cupid. "Evan, I know you're there."  
  
"I know you know," replied a grudging voice. The owner sighed, rustling the bushes as he clambered out and into view. "Can't blame a guy for trying, can you?"   
  
Evan was a dark-skinned teenager with strange blonde hair, cut into an even stranger style, and a fashion sense that made Amara sniff with distaste. His clothes had the rumpled, grubby look of someone who just shakes his wardrobe in the mornings and wears whatever falls out, and were smeared with an unidentifiable brown something they really didn't want to know about.  
  
He scuffed his feet, staying where he was. "Uh, sorry about that, Professor. I was just playing around and I kinda slipped. It just popped out. I didn't mean to hurt anyone - honest." He looked suitably disconsolate, and Xavier nodded his forgiveness.  
  
"I understand, Evan, but please, *try* to be more careful in future. Now come over here and meet our new recruits."  
  
Evan's dark eyes went wide, and he smacked his forehead in classic Homer Simpson fashion. "Oh *yeah*, I remember you telling me the new kids were arriving today." He ran over, smiling and extending a hand to all those who'd arrived that morning. "Evan Daniels, a.k.a. Spyke. Spelled with a 'y', though. You can probably tell why they call me that."  
  
"What *is* that thing?" Sam asked, pointing to the object still in Jean's hand. "Some kinda wood?"  
  
"I wish. It's bone. I kinda got a surplus of the stuff." He held out an arm, and they 'ooh'ed and 'aah'ed as a line of tiny protrusions exited his flesh and then sucked back in again with a small grunt of exertion and wet popping sound. "Plays havoc with my calcium intake, but cool as hell," he grinned.  
  
"Are there any others around?" Xavier asked, puckering his brow. "I felt sure I told everyone to meet out on the plaza."  
  
"Uh, yeah," Evan tilted his head to one side in obvious thought. "I'm not sure where Auntie O is, but Scott should be around here somewhere. We were playing with the Frisbee when I fell, and.... you kinda know the rest." He blushed faintly, then turned and shouted into the bushes. "Yo, Scott! You there?"  
  
The shrubbery rustled, and from around the side waltzed a tall teenager in casual wear and fetching red shades. There was a yellow Frisbee tucked under one armpit, his hand being reserved for a small red book with a faded cover. His other hand was stuffed firmly into his pocket in a nonchalant pose, and his hair flopped with practised adorability into his face. He smiled amiably at the group, creating a dimple in his chin.  
  
"Hey, Jean, you dropped this. Oh, hey Professor. I didn't know you were - " His eyes fell on the cluster of newbies. "Oh sh- oops, I *knew* there was something special happening today."  
  
"So glad to know you hang on my every word." Xavier steepled his hands as the young man approached, and went through the same introductions as with Jean and Evan.  
  
Tabitha viewed the one presented as Scott Summers with a predatory smile. _Not bad,_ she thought, looking him up and down with a skilful eye and liking what she saw. _Not bad at all._ She sidled up, practically oozing sexuality. "And what codename do they call you? Shades?"  
  
"Uh, Cyclops actually," he replied, taking a step backwards, away from her. His eyebrows shot up, and it was clear he didn't know quite what to make of this extraordinarily forthright blonde girl. However, she closed the distance them between once more and rested a finger on the thin bridge of plastic linking the two panes of red glass together.  
  
"Cyclops, huh? Interesting." She smiled a rapacious grin that showed her teeth. "Mind taking these things off and showing us your baby-blues?" She pushed experimentally at the glasses, but he grabbed her wrist.  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned. "My mutation isn't exactly people-friendly."  
  
Behind them, Evan quipped; "Especially not at point-blank range."  
  
Scott glared at him. "Thanks for that, Evan." Then, to Tabby, he said, "I shoot laser beams from my eyes. Each eyeball has enough force behind it to kill a person, and since my optic nerves were....damaged when I was younger, these special ruby-quartz lenses are pretty much the only thing standing between me and a whole lot of burnt wreckage." He smiled winningly, making the dimple appear again, but Tabby yanked her hand back as if stung.  
  
"Oh," she said, and adjusted the strap on her backpack. The others had all left their things in the lobby, since they were so heavy, but because she only had the one bag she'd kept it with her. "Name's Tabby. I blow stuff up." She spun on her heel and walked away, trademark hip-swing intact and drawing Scott's gaze despite himself.  
  
"That was.... enlightening," he muttered, then caught Jean's eye and blushed inexplicably.  
  
Professor Xavier went through the new arrivals' names again, and then asked the inevitable question. "Is there anyone else out here?"  
  
Scott recomposed himself and shook his head. "Nu-uh. Evan and I were the only ones. And Jean, of course."  
  
"So glad you remembered me."  
  
Xavier sighed. "If you'd just hold on for a moment, please." He closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his temples much like Jean had a few minutes ago.  
  
Jamie tugged at Rahne, whose hand he had yet to let go of since he'd taken it back on the front steps. "What's he doing?"  
  
"He's scanning for the others," Jean expounded, and tapped the side of her skull. "Y'know, mind-to-mind? You get used to it after a while. Much better than an intercom system, at any rate."  
  
Jubilee just shook her head. "Ready-made bone-spears, killer eye-beams, telekinesis, werewolves - man, this place just keeps getting weirder and weirder."  
  
"You haven't even seen the half of it, yet," Evan grinned impishly, but wouldn't elucidate any further when pressed other than a cryptic, "You'll see."  
  
Finally the Professor returned to them, opening his eyes and saying, "Kitty and Rogue are on their way, as is Ororo. Apparently she went to the garage to meet up with Logan first."  
  
Amara goggled. "She went to see that guy *voluntarily*?"  
  
"Hey, Logan's not so bad," Scott defended the gruff mutant. "He's pulled my fat out of the fire more times than I care to remember, and he's a pretty OK guy once you get to know him."  
  
The princess sniffed, jutting her nose in the air. "I have no intention of getting to know him any more than I have to," she snapped. "The bare minimum should suffice with a man like that."  
  
The Professor seemed mildly amused at that. "A man like what, exactly?"  
  
"You know," Amara waved a hand, searching for the right words. "He's so.... bestial. And rude. I've never met such a discourteous person in all my life."  
  
Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Honestly! Just because he didn't bow to you when you got in the van!"  
  
"Bow to her?" Scott's eyebrows went up, mirrored by both Evan's and Jean's. Obviously they didn't know of Amara's royal heritage yet, or if they did, they weren't aware of the bad manners and snobbish attitude that seemed to be such an intrinsic part of it.  
  
"Long story."  
  
"We're here!" shouted a voice, and the group's collective gaze was immediately drawn to the side of the building where two girls were currently walking through the brickwork, sans a door. They literally just ran (or were dragged, in the second's case) through it as if it weren't there, or they were made up of some ectoplasmic substance that allowed them to do such things. There was an almost audible 'thunk' as several jaws hit the ground.  
  
The first girl, a pretty, slender thing with a stylish high-ponytail and distinct attitude of pink said, "Sorry we're late, professor, but Rogue, like, totally wouldn't get ready."  
  
The other girl yanked her arm away from where it had been clamped in the former's hand and scowled. She, as a total counter to her companion, was gothic looking, with dark, wispy clothes covering almost every inch of her body and heavy make up that wouldn't have looked out of place in The Rocky Horror Show. She also had a strong cleft chin, and tilted it up defiantly.   
  
"*Mah* fault? Ah've been ready fer ages. Ah was just waitin' around fer you to get off the dang phone, Kitty, so's Ah could make an important call."  
  
The one identified as Kitty pouted. "Well, if I could perhaps *use* it once in a while, then maybe I wouldn't have to, like - "  
  
"Once in a *while*? Girl, you never get off the goddamn contraption! Always talkin' to your precious Lancey-poo - "  
  
"Kitty, Rogue," Xavier broke in, wheeling forward and raising his hands. "I think it'd be better if we didn't argue in front of the new students."  
  
Rogue folded her arms. "Well, she started it."   
  
Kitty stuck out her tongue.  
  
"I don't much care *who* started it," Xavier replied, "But could you refrain from an all-out cat-fight long enough to come and say hello, at least?" He inclined his head at the flabbergasted youngsters behind him, and the two girls exchanged a look before launching themselves at them.  
  
Well, that is to say *Kitty* practically launched herself at them. Rogue was a little more dignified, walking forwards sedately and introducing herself with a polite handshake and curt word to all those she'd never met before.  
  
"So what's *your* mutant power?" asked Tabby with her usual amount of bluntness once the formalities were over with.  
  
Kitty giggled. "I can, like, phase through solid objects. I think it's something to do with electron manipulation, but we're still figuring out the finer details."  
  
"And what about you?" The blonde turned to Rogue.  
  
"Ah suck out people's life forces through skin-on-skin contact," she said simply. "If they're mutant, then Ah also temporarily get their powers." She gave a rare, half-smile, though upon closer inspection her eyes told a different story. "Ah guess y'all could say Ah'm as close to a vampire as a person can get."  
  
Jamie squeaked and huddled closer to Rahne. The lycanthrope squeezed his hand. "Och, leave off scaring the poor buggers, Rogue," she chastised.   
  
"Rahne, language," chided one of the pair if adults coming through the glass doors the new recruits had passed through no so long ago. The man was recognisable as Logan; the gruff, weather-beaten mutant who had picked most of them up from the airport or similar that morning. He nodded at them and settled himself on a nearby wall without a word. The woman, however, was a different matter altogether.  
  
She was tall, with skin the colour of chocolate and hair so white half of them were instantly convinced it was dyed. Her clothing was exotic, and made up of different prints and patterns that normally would have clashed, but somehow looked right at home on her. Likewise, her make-up would've seemed like a little girl playing in her mother's cosmetic box on anyone else, but only served to highlight the unusual woman's arched cheekbones and full lips.  
  
She approached them with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. "Hello there. My name's Ororo. I'll be one of your teachers here at the Institute."  
  
"What do *you* do?" breathed Jamie, peering out in abject awe from behind Rahne's legs.  
  
Ororo gave a light laugh. "I can control the weather, to a certain extent. Rain, thunder, lightning, wind - that sort of thing. What's you name, sweetie?"  
  
Jamie flushed. "Jamie," he answered meekly. "Jamie Madrox. You're really pretty."  
  
"Why thank you." Ororo took an instant liking to the youngest of their new recruits.  
  
Another round of introductions ensued, and at the end of them Xavier looked around at the assembled parties with a satisfied nod. "Good. Is that everybody?"  
  
"Um, not quite." Kitty, who was perched next to a miniature cupid, pointed at an upstairs window of the mansion. "They haven't, like, met Kurt yet."  
  
Xavier frowned. "But I specifically told him to come down when I scanned for - oh never mind." He sighed, steepling his hands. "I should've known this would be.... difficult for him. Kurt isn't exactly good at meeting new people," he explained to the curious looks he received at that comment.  
  
"At least, not when he's au naturale," Kitty added, and shook her head. "I guess we should've, like, expected this after what happened when *I* joined, huh, Professor? [1]"  
  
"Not so, Kitty. Kurt was still acclimatising himself upon your arrival, and was particularly vulnerable back then."  
  
"Yeah, he wasn't so bad when I arrived," Evan put in with an emphatic nod.  
  
"Nor me," Rogue added.  
  
"I think," Xavier went on, a thoughtful expression on his face, "That Kurt is experiencing a mild form of Ocholophobia as a result of some rather.... unpleasant experiences in his past.[2]" He didn't explain further on that front, though the older members of the Institute seemed just as bemused as the newer variety. Obviously it was something Kurt had told his mentor and nobody else. Or else it was a surface thought Xavier had picked up on at one time or another by accident.  
  
"Ocholophobia?" Kitty scrunched up her nose. "Isn't that a fear of flying?"  
  
"Tch," Rogue tutted her disapproval. "Don't ya know anything? Ocholophobia's a fear of crowds. Ain't that right Professor?"  
  
"Correct, Rogue." Xavier bobbed his head. "I think the prospect of meeting so many new people at once in his natural form has effectively driven Kurt into hiding."  
  
"Under his bed again?" Kitty supplicated.  
  
Tabby and Jubilee traded an inquisitive look. "Just exactly how old is this Kurt guy?" questioned the former warily.  
  
The reply was instantaneous, and came from several directions. "Sixteen."  
  
Tabby frowned. "A sixteen year old hiding under his *bed*?"   
  
"Kurt's a second generation mutant," Jean slipped into what they would soon discover was her lecture mode. "His mother was a mutant, and from what we can gather, his father possessed a latent X-gene. Kurt's mutations have been visibly perceptible since birth. They're quite.... advanced." She sighed.   
  
"Unlike you or I, Kurt doesn't have the luxury of a 'normal' looking human body," Xavier made quotation marks in the air that effectively communicated his aversion for the word. "However, this does not make him any less human. I probably should've done this when Kitty arrived also, but then again, hindsight is a wonderful thing." He gestured with one hand, encompassing the garden and grounds beyond into the movement and his meaning. "Things, perhaps, would've gone a lot more smoothly if I had."  
  
Jubilee leaned in a little closer to Bobby, and nudged his side with her elbow. "Hey," she whispered, "Do you know what he's talking about?"  
  
Bobby shook his head. "Nu-uh. We were never introduced to this Kurt guy yesterday. He was out of town, or so we were told. But now I'm not so sure."  
  
Rahne, who'd been listening in on them with her keen hearing, hissed; "I've met Kurt. He's a nice guy, really, but kinda sensitive. If and when you meet him, whatever you do *don't scream*. He kinda gets offended at that - understandable, really."  
  
Their curiosity was piqued to boiling point.  
  
"Ahem," Xavier recaptured their attention. "If you've quite finished, I was going to ask for your permissions to project a mental image of Kurt directly into your minds as a preparation for meeting the actual him."  
  
There was a pause for a second. Then; "Sure. Why not?" Tabby tilted her hips the other way and flashed a smile at Scott, turning his cheeks a nice shade of cerise. "I'm always open to new things. Never had a telepath in my head before, but what the heck. Just leave everything as you found it, huh?"  
  
"I'm not in the habit of probing other people's thoughts unless invited," Xavier said, a little primly. "Are there any objections?"  
  
A vague murmur went through the crowd of teenagers, but there were none.  
  
"Right then. If you'll all just close your eyes for a moment - I find it helps non-telepaths to concentrate on psychic images." They complied, and the Professor held a hand to his temple.  
  
For a moment nothing happened.  
  
"Am I supposed to be getting some psychic vibration around about now?" Tabby asked nobody in particular. Nobody in particular answered her, either. "Hello? Is anyone - "  
  
"Shhhh!" said somebody; she couldn't tell whom exactly.  
  
"Well, that's a very nice - oh my God!"  
  
The reason for her sudden exclamation was simple. The lucid image of a demon had just popped into her head with such veracity it made her take a step backwards, bumping into the low wall and plonking her bottom down unceremoniously on the cold stonework. The combination of coldness and stinging sensation on the backs of her legs hardly registered, however. She was far too concerned with the demon in her thoughts.  
  
It was a hunched thing, and walked on thin digigrade legs with too few toes in all the wrong places, and blue shaggy fur absolutely *everywhere*. It's hands hung limply at its sides, wrists dangling, and her mouth fell open in shock as she realised that there were only three fingers attached instead of five. Its waist was practically non-existent, and from the base of its spine tapered a long, serpentine tail tipped with a spade that just completed its demonic countenance. As if the glowing yellow eyes and fangs hadn't already done so.  
  
"What the f*cking hell is *that*?" demanded Ray from somewhere on her left.  
  
"*That*," answered Xavier coolly, "Is Kurt."  
  
Jubilee let out a long whistle. "No wonder the poor guy doesn't like to go out much."  
  
"He has an image inducer," said Xavier as the mental picture flickered out and they all reopened their eyes once more. "A piece of experimental technology that allows him to resemble a non-mutant teenager outside of the Institute. He attends school, social occasions and other things just like everyone else. However, if you're all going to be living together, you're going to see him in his true form on a regular basis. I'd appreciate it if you made the utmost effort to communicate to him that his appearance does not bother you unduly. Kurt is rather thin-skinned about his visible mutations."  
  
"Visible mutations?" Sam blinked. "You mean there's more?"  
  
"Kurt also has the ability of instantaneous teleportation."  
  
"It's like, he just has to think about an open space and, like, 'poof', he's there," Kitty clarified.   
  
Jamie voiced all their thoughts. "Cooool."  
  
The response seemed to please Xavier. The corners of his mouth quirked up, at least, and he gestured to the glass doors and started to wheel himself back into the Institute.  
  
"I'm glad you think so. Now, if you'll just follow me, we can get this over with so that all parties concerned are put at ease."  
  
~ ^_^ ~  
  
Kurt's room - or, at least, the door to Kurt's room - was ordinary enough. No sigils of the devil, no strange marks daubed in red paint, no animal sacrifices smeared across the frame. Just a strong, thick wooden door. The same as all the others they'd passed so far, and presumably the same as all there own would be, too.  
  
Xavier knocked and waited. There was no reply, and he knocked again, rapping loudly with his knuckles.  
  
"Perhaps he's not in there?" Jubilee suggested. The new recruits were all crowded into the hallway, pushing and jostling at each other to get a better view without actually getting too close.  
  
However, Xavier shook his head. "He's inside," he said firmly, and in a tone that brooked no argument. "Kurt?"  
  
No answer.  
  
Behind them all, in the cluster of 'oldies', as they'd been quickly nicknamed, Kitty exhaled noisily and hung her head. "Now this seems familiar. I'm, like, having a distinct feeling of déjà vu over here."  
  
"Huh?" Rogue said intelligently.  
  
"This is pretty much what Kurt did when I arrived," the younger girl inclined her head at the door. "Professor Xavier had to, like, use the master key to get in, and even then Kurt, like, hid under the bed and refused to come out until there was no other option left. Honestly, you'd think I was some kind of ogre, the way he was acting."  
  
Rogue tipped her face a little, a wicked smirk playing about her dark lips. "Well, now that you mention it - "  
  
"Don't *even* go there."  
  
They were both shushed by a grunt from Logan, who'd been silent up until that point. "Clam up, you two."  
  
They clammed up.  
  
"Kurt?" Xavier was trying the diplomatic approach again. "Kurt, I know you're in there. Kurt, it's alright."  
  
"Nein, Professor," a voice, slightly muffled by the thick wood, replied. "I'm not coming out, and you're not coming in. None of you are." How he knew there were more than a few of them was a mystery.  
  
Xavier sighed. "Kurt, please don't do this again. You *know* what happened last time. I - "  
  
"Ja, Kitty got scared and screamed," came the whipcrack retort. There was a bitter edge to Kurt's tone that made even tabby flinch. "I.... I don't want it to happen again, Professor. And before you say it, ja, I *know* I have to live with them from now on. But.... but I can't.... not yet...."  
  
"Kurt," Xavier's voice softened. "Kurt, you know what I'm going to say next, don't you?"  
  
A sniff. "Ja. You're going to tell me that it's better I get it out of the way now, instead of stewing about it."  
  
"And I thought *I* was the telepath," he chuckled. Then turned serious. "Kurt. Please. You know I have the master key, but I'm not lying when I say that I'd prefer not to use it this time. It'll benefit all concerned if you open the door yourself."  
  
"Do I have a choice?"  
  
Evidently it was a rhetorical question, because there was the sound of a lock being turned on the other side, and the door gave a single long creak as it opened.  
  
"Hafta remember to oil those hinges," Logan muttered, his mundane patter bringing everybody back down to earth with a bump.  
  
Xavier pushed the door open and entered, cautiously followed by the cluster of new recruits sans Rahne. It had been decided on the journey up here that only they should go in so as to be less threatening, and had been specifically briefed on what to do and what not to do upon seeing Kurt for the first time. In all, it had sounded more like the tack used to approach a wild, if timid beast, and their expectations had been raised slightly higher every time a new rule was expounded.  
  
However, it seemed that all their preparation was in vain, since they crossed the threshold to find only an empty room, with no trace of anyone anywhere. Not even the telltale depression of bedclothes where a person may have been sitting down, moping or otherwise. Everything was neatly packed, folded or filed away with something approaching obsessive tidiness, and there was no trace that a person was even in residence here at all. Rather, the room looked more like a guest bedroom, kept spick and span the rest of the year when no aunt, uncle or distant relation was visiting and needed a place to stay.  
  
On impulse, Tabby's eyes were drawn to the bed. "You wanna check under there?" she asked hesitantly, conscious of how ridiculous the question sounded.  
  
Someone laughed from high behind them. "No need, Fraulein. I've changed my tactics a little today."  
  
En masse, they swivelled to trace the source, and also en masse, stifled a gasp.  
  
Whatever mental grounding Xavier and a whole army of telepaths could give them; it would never be quite the same as meeting the real Kurt. Not even close.  
  
He was perched above the doorframe, back to the wall and clinging impossibly with just the tips of his fingers and toes. The crown of his head touched the ceiling, and there was a faint rustling sound as he moved to stare balefully down at them.  
  
"You can start screaming now, if you like," he offered bleakly, showing teeth that seemed just that little bit sharper, and a fraction of an inch longer in real life. "I don't mind."  
  
Nobody said a word.   
  
"No, really," he shifted his weight, and the long prehensile tail slipped into view. "Get it out of your system now. A couple of yips, a full-blown screech, perhaps a banshee wail - I've heard them all, and I'd much prefer you did it when I was ready than not." He paused. "Why aren't you screaming? Even *Kätzchen* screamed the first time she saw me."  
  
Outside, Kitty reddened.  
  
"Perhaps," Xavier said gently, "They aren't screaming, because you don't frighten them."  
  
Kurt snorted, demonstrating exactly what he thought of that theory. "*Pfft*, pull the other one, Professor. *Everyone's* afraid of me at first. After all, it's not everyday you meet a real live demon in the flesh. I don't mind, though - honestly. It's human nature."  
  
Xavier was about to say something more, but swallowed his words as a presence materialized at his shoulder.   
  
Jamie wasn't the bravest of little kids. He wasn't the biggest, either. Or the strongest. Or the fastest. He was the kind of kid that was always picked last for sports, and had captains fighting over who *didn't* get to have him on their team. To be frank0, he'd usually been the resident punching bag in the playground - at least, until one day someone punched and there were suddenly ten of him instead of just one. To all intents and purposes, he knew what it was like to be singled out because of being different, if not for entirely the same reasons as Kurt.  
  
He stared up at the furry mutant with wide eyes, and gulped several times before speaking. "Is it true?" he asked at last.  
  
Kurt's tail-tip twitched in agitation, and he cocked his head. "Is what true?"  
  
"Can you," Jamie gulped again. "Can you *teleport*?"  
  
Kurt blinked for a second. Once. Twice. Processing the question. Then his lips curved upward slightly, and before anyone said a word he'd disappeared with a faint 'Bamf' in a plume of purple smoke. Less than a moment later he reappeared on the floor behind Jamie, causing the younger boy to jump and turn around so fast he stumbled over his own feet.  
  
Kurt caught him easily. "Whoops," he said, still with a slightly nervous note bordering his vocal pitch.  
  
Jamie grabbed onto the proffered arm instinctively, and let out a small gasp as his fingers came into contact with Kurt's bare hands. "Whoa," he breathed with no small amount of awe. "You're real soft, like the chinchilla a boy at my old school used to have. All warm and fuzzy."  
  
"Danke, I think." The slight curvature increased.  
  
"Not very co-ordinated, is he?" asked a voice, and Kurt swivelled his head to see a smallish, oriental girl with merry brown eyes and a playful grin standing behind him.  
  
"Hey!" Jamie struggled from Kurt's grasp. "Am so!"  
  
"Yeah right," Jubilee scoffed jokingly, "You couldn't find your way out of a paper bag if the exit was signposted in neon letters."  
  
Tabby came to stand next to her and stuck out her hand towards Kurt with a smouldering grin that had obviously had a lot of tweaking and practise. "Hey there, cutie. Cool effects, although I could've done without the interesting smell."  
  
Kurt eyed her tentatively before shaking her hand. "Uh, ja. Unfortunately it's something I can't help."  
  
"Well, just make sure you don't stand too near me when you pop in and out like that," she smirked. "One of my little boom-balls might blow up in my face - literally. Hey, the kid's right. You *are* soft." Her thumb rubbed the joint of his finger experimentally, brushing the fine blue hairs so that they stood on end, then smoothing them back down again.  
  
Kurt's smile widened into a grin, and then into a beam as the other members of the new recruits surged forward to greet him and check the softness factor of his fur for themselves. Not one of them commented on his outward appearance, nor gave the least hint that it troubled them, and he found himself revelling in the proffered contact like the proverbial cat that'd got the cream.  
  
Xavier backed his chair into the aperture of the door with a smile on his face, resting his chin on his fist and watching as Kurt's inhibitions slowly began to melt away as the new arrivals pummelled him with questions about the Institute and his mutant abilities, and requests to be shown the length and breadth of the mansion via the 'coolness-enhanced' means of teleportation. An indiscriminate thought flew to him through the ether as Amara swallowed her pride long enough to experience the feel of Kurt's fur for herself, and cooed most unbecomingly as she found it more to her liking than even *she* would've realised.  
  
_Oh *ja*, chicks *do* dig the fuzzy dude._  
  
Logan stepped up behind his employer and nodded at the cluster before them. "That go better than expected?"  
  
"It did," Charles answered truthfully.   
  
"We all underestimated 'em, Chuck. Even I didn't hold out much hope on this front." His habitually crotchety voice was low, and lost to Kurt's sensitive hearing amidst the babble and chatter of his new admirers.   
  
At that moment, Jamie emitted a small peep as someone bumped into him, and abruptly there were five of him clinging to Kurt's arms like limpets and looking up at him apologetically. "Sorry," the chorused together with one voice, inflections and timing in perfect, if spooky synch. "Just wait a second while I pull myself together."  
  
Bobby waved a hand in front of his face. "Phew, what a stinky pun. Catch *me* saying anything *that* clichéd." He snorted.  
  
"You said it," added Roberto, pinching his nostrils together. "Pee-yu."  
  
"It would appear," Xavier regarded the scenario with a twinkle in his eye, "That our new arrivals are going to fit in just fine."  
  
~ ^_^ ~  
  
Tabby glanced critically around at her new bedroom and sniffed. "I guess it'll do."  
  
Behind her, Kitty raised an eyebrow. "This was, like, mine and Rogue's room last year, but, like, since we're getting one each now this is your new pad."  
  
"Oh great, a hand-me-down." Tabby waltzed in and casually threw her backpack in the corner, then flopped down on the bed. She bounced a couple of times, experimental. "Hmm, comfy. So who slept in this one?"  
  
"That was Rogue's. The Professor had my old bed, like, taken away so that you'd have more space." Kitty gestured at the obviously new dressing table pushed against the wall, presumably in the spot where her bed had resided last year. It was painted white and decorated in liberal swirly designs and carvings like wisps of smoke. Atop it was a matching hairbrush, comb and hand mirror set - a welcome gift from the Institute. Each was inscribed with tiny gold calligraphic letters that spelled out 'Tabitha'.  
  
Tabby crossed the room and picked one up, weighing it in her hand. "Nice," she proclaimed after a moment. "Not too shabby. Never had nothing like this before. You get this stuff when you first arrived too?" She waved the hairbrush, but Kitty shook her head.  
  
"Like, nu-uh. The Professor had those made up especially for you. But I *did* get one of those." She pointed, and Tabby swivelled to look. Her kohl-rimmed eyes widened, and she let out a very undignified squeak, running to the huge stereo at such speed that even Quicksilver would've been put to shame.  
  
"Oh wow, *cool*!" She stroked the twin speakers; pressing each of the buttons on the cassette player and opening the triple CD drive with something akin to awe shining in her face. There were no actual CDs or cassette tapes to speak of yet, but the fact that someone had willingly given her such an extravagant gift was something that'd never happened to the blonde girl before.  
  
On impulse, she straightened up and fixed Kitty with a suspicious look. "So what's the catch?"  
  
Kitty blinked. "Catch? What catch? What're you, like, taking about?"  
  
"The catch. Y'know, the bad part of this whole case." Tabby folded her arms in the manner of a teacher to a particularly dunce child. "Nothing comes this easy. What I gotta do to sweeten this deal? I can't pay for it, but I can work it off."  
  
Kitty looked thoroughly confused. "Tabitha, it's, like, a present. You don't have to pay *or* work for it. The stereo, the furniture, the room," she inclined her head, including everything into her denotation, "It's all part-and-parcel. You're a student here, now. These are just a few of the perks."  
  
Tabby still seemed sceptical, but her gaze kept being drawn back to the sound system, and every time she stared at it her disbelieving smile softened a little more. "You sure about that? There's no catch? No price to pay? Nothing?"  
  
Kitty answered in the negative. "Like, what's with all the mistrust, anyway? Don't you want the stuff?"  
  
Tabby chewed her lip, as if unsure how much to say. "I ain't never just had stuff given to me before," she said cagily. "Back home, there were always strings attached. Always a price of some kind I had to pay." Her expression turned a little strange, almost pained, and Kitty immediately wondered if there was more to this brash blonde bombshell than initially met the eye.  
  
However, whatever she meant, Tabby instantly shattered the moment by jerking up her head squinting at the door. "You gonna leave now? I need some time to unpack."  
  
"What's to unpack?" Kitty motioned to the casually flung pink backpack. "You hardly have anything with you. The rest of your stuff being sent along later, is it?"  
  
"None of your damn business!" The savage note in Tabby's voice startled Kitty a little, and she inadvertently took a step backwards, raising her hands in the universal gesture for assuaging.  
  
"Like, sorry. I didn't mean to offend or anything."  
  
Tabby responded by stalking up to the door and shutting it firmly in the other girl's face. Kitty stayed staring open-mouthed for a moment, and heard the lock slide and click into place on the other side. She frowned, then turned on her heel and marched away, nose in the air.  
  
"Geez, I only asked."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Jamie ran into his new bedroom and promptly bounced on the bed. "Cool!" he exclaimed as his head nearly brushed the ceiling. "Lookit how high I can go!"  
  
"Hey, you'd better come down from there before the Professor or someone sees you," cautioned Bobby from the doorway. Behind him, Roberto nodded vigorously, a bulky suitcase carried easily under either arm with the help of his mutation.  
  
"Ou esse homem do diabo Logan[3]. That is one mean dude. I wouldn't wanna cross him my first day."  
  
They'd been assigned the task of showing their newest recruit to his room, since they already knew where their own were, having arrived and settled in the day before.  
  
The two older boys grunted as they hulked Jamie's copious amount of luggage over the threshold. Honestly, how much stuff could a little kid *have* to weigh this much? Clothing couldn't possibly be this heavy alone, and they eyed the cases curiously, wondering what lay within.  
  
Jamie took not the blindest bit of notice of their warnings. At least, not until he bounced just that little bit to high and bumped his head on the plaster. "Ow!" he yelled, crumpling onto the rumpled bedclothes in five different pieces.  
  
Bobby sighed and went to him/them. Having both a little brother *and* little sister at home in Philadelphia, he was proficient in dealing with most childish injuries, including skinned knees, random cuts, bruises, and bumped heads. Jamie's odd mutation was a little disconcerting, but he'd been living with a demonic looking teen, ghost girl and werewolf since yesterday, so his disbelief was so far suspended by now that he could hardly even see it anymore.  
  
"Which one is the original? Come here, short stuff," he said, leaning across and hauling one of the Jamies upright by his armpits. The younger boy sniffled, tears in his eyes and hands clamped to his skull.  
  
"It hurts," he said dejectedly, motioning at his cranium. The clones did likewise.  
  
"Where?" Bobby peeled the hands away and looked for any aesthetic damage. "No blood. Always a good sign. No lumps, either. Yet another good sign."  
  
Jamie gingerly touched at the sore spot. "You *sure* there's no lumps?" he asked dubiously and winced as his fingertips lightly brushed the area. "Yowch." The clones all nodded their assent.  
  
"Nope. No bumps here," Bobby affirmed. "But do you wanna go check? I think Ororo's in the kitchen, and she knows some first aid."  
  
Jamie's eyes shone. "She is? Let's go!" He leaped off the bed and started running towards the door. All five of him. Roberto shifted aside to let them pass, and the impromptu quintuplets stood tapping their feet in the hall. "Come on, hustle it up," they said in creepy unison.  
  
"I don't know whether to be seriously freaked," Roberto said as Bobby passed him, "Or seriously impressed."  
  
Jamie's nose wrinkled, and he suddenly gave a violent sneeze. Another clone appeared. "Bless me," it said.  
  
Roberto blinked. "Freakishly impressed," he murmured.  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Amara glared at Jubilee. Jubilee glared at Amara.  
  
"Why do I have to share with *her*?"  
  
The way they mirrored each other might have been spooky, if it weren't for the jolts of electricity crackling almost palpably between them. For Jean, such intangible shocks were a little more real, and she pressed a hand to her forehead as waves of distaste rolled towards her from either side and gathered in her gut.  
  
"Look, the Professor already explained this," she said wearily. "Roberto had a little accident yesterday when he arrived, and your," here she indicated to Amara, "Room pretty much copped the lot, since you live - would've lived - next door. You'll have to share until he gets things repaired."  
  
The two girls didn't take their eyes off of each other. "Yes, but why *her*," Amara gritted, and Jean flinched as a spear of disgust flecked with anger lanced through her shields and into her sensitive brain. "Why do I have to move into *her* room?"  
  
Non-telepaths, while they could be taught how to protect their thoughts, often had problems with emotions because they weren't conscious and couldn't be controlled. When people had no training whatsoever, then their psi's were like an open book, and Jean found herself clenching her teeth against the emotional onslaught from these two. It was like they had mental diarrhoea, and she, to put it bluntly, was the bowl. Neither an analogy, nor a role she particularly cared for as tension built up in her stomach. Forget psychosomatic illnesses, if they kept this up, she was truly going to hurl.  
  
"Look, will you two stop it!" she snapped, causing them to break off death-glaring and look at her. Without the eye contact to fuel things their emotions dimmed a little, and Jean sighed a tiny sigh of relief.  
  
It didn't last long.  
  
"Why does she have to be in *my* room?" Jubilee asked. "Couldn't she bunk with one of the others?" She blew a large pink bubble, its increased size denoting her agitation.   
  
"Because," Jean started, and then realised she didn't have a reason to back it up with.  
  
"Well?" Amara tapped her foot impatiently. "Because what? I'm *waiting*."  
  
Jean sighed. "Because Professor Xavier said so."  
  
"Oh, and he's *God*, is he?" There was an edge of sarcasm in the Princess' voice that Jean didn't particularly care for.  
  
"While you're living under his roof, he is," she replied tartly. Showing the new recruits to their rooms had sounded like such an easy task. Now it was all she could do to hold onto her lunch and wish she were anywhere but here. _How the heck could these two have started up such a feud a mere matter of hours after meeting each other?_  
  
Amara folded her arms, tilting her head back and sniffing haughtily. "I'm not doing it," she proclaimed. "I'm not sharing a room with a mere....... a mere rude *peasant*!"  
  
Jean's stomach gurgled. _Hold on down there._ "Then you'll sleep outside in the grounds, because none of the other rooms are fit for staying in just yet. Now get unpacked and settled in and *try* not to kill each other." With normal teenage girls on the warpath this would've been an empty caution. With *mutant* teenage girls, it was a distinct possibility.  
  
Amara seemed about to say more, and even got as far as opening her mouth before Jean cut in sharply. "I'll leave you two alone to get to know each other better. Perhaps you'll find out you've got something in common. A shared interest."  
  
"With her? Not likely. I don't enjoy consorting with peasant *pigs*."  
  
Jean closed the door on their continued fighting and pattered off down the hallway in the general direction of the girls' bathroom for a nice vicarious-emotion purge.  
  
_If we get any more new mutants this semester,_ she vowed silently, _Ororo can help them to settle in. I value my health too much!_  
  
"Jean?" The husky voice came from up ahead, and Jean raised her eyes to see Rahne bouncing towards her, something long, fabric and sparkly in her hands.  
  
It seemed Rahne was one of those people who couldn't just walk anywhere. Her normal pace was something between a hop and a skip, and she was constantly darting around in the manner of an over-excited puppy. In the week since she'd arrived, the little Scotsgirl had exhausted virtually everybody foolish enough to take one of her 'strolls' with her, bar Logan or Kurt. The former because he didn't *do* strolling, and the latter because he could be just as hyperactive when he chose.  
  
Rahne's expression now was one of concern, and she skidded to a halt in front of the other redhead. "You OK? You look a wee bit peaky." She was holding what appeared to be a pair of silken gloves in her hands, much like those commonly worn with evening gowns or clothes for special occasions. These were a delicate mint green, and edged at the cuffs with white lace.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jean replied unconvincingly. The hand clutched to her midriff elicited a raised eyebrow from the lycanthrope, and Jean indicated to the gloves before she could be questioned further. Experience had taught her that talking about telepathically induced illness generally made it worse, and she was still a good few hallways from the bathroom yet. "What are those?"  
  
Rahne blinked and looked down at her hands. "Gloves," she answered the redundant question. "I found 'em out on the driveway. Think they must've come from Amara's suitcase when it popped open out there. I was just going to return them. Professor Xavier said she's sharing with that Jubilee girl for the time being."  
  
Jean winced. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you," she advised darkly. "You might get caught in the crossfire."  
  
"Crossfire?" Rahne cocked her head to one side. "Whaddya mean?"  
  
However, Jean's irate stomach was in no mood to let her carry on a conversation, and it made a rather loud squelching noise. "Sorry," Jean apologised hastily and pushed past the younger girl. "Gotta go!" And she took off down the corridor at a rate of knots.  
  
Rahne watched her curiously, wondering what she'd meant by that strange comment. Then, dismissing it with a shrug, she continued along towards where she'd been informed the new girls would be staying.  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
After Jean had shut the door, Amara and Jubilee resumed their impromptu staring match, each trying to bore holes into the other with the power of their eyes alone.   
  
It really was amazing, the amount of dislike boiling between them, considering how long they'd known each other. One stuffy, cramped trip in a car, several arguments concerning luggage and a grand tour in each other's company had stirred up enough bad feeling to last a lifetime. And now they had to share a room together too.  
  
In time, they'd get to find that Amara pretty much had that effect on anyone and everyone she came into contact with who wasn't royalty, or at least of a high social rank. Likewise, Jubilee's ceaseless chattering could drive even the most patient of souls to distraction. But for now they only had eyes for each other, and not in the pleasant sense.  
  
Amara broke the stalemate by abruptly spinning on her heel and plopping her behind on the bed, stepping over the makeshift camp-bed Logan had set up for as long as she'd be staying in here.  
  
"You can sleep on that," she kicked at it with her foot, and the metal poles over which the fabric was stretched wobbled dangerously, giving out brown, rusty breaths.  
  
Jubilee's mouth flopped open, and she couldn't think of anything to say for a moment. When words *did* eventually come out, they were hoarse and grated from disbelief and no small amount of anger. "Why should you get the good bed? This is *my* room."  
  
"Yes, but *I'm* royalty." Amara swept her hair out of her face with a practised hand, somehow managing to make it look sexy. Jubilee boiled in her boots, and at her sides her hands bunched into fists.  
  
_Keep calm, Jubes,_ she told herself. _Deep breaths. Come on. Don't wanna cause too much hassle on your first day._ Memories of damage she'd caused in a temper when her powers first manifested sprang to mind, and she put a firm clampdown on the faint crackling around her fingertips.   
  
"I'm not sure you understand," she said, adopting her most pleasant tone and hoping it'd do the trick. "In this place, we're all equals. You're not in Nova Sonia now, Amara. You're just an average kid, just like the rest of us. No Princess jazz, just Amara. Well," she blew another bubble, and amended herself, "Maybe not quite *average*, but you're just like the rest of us. You can't pull rank here."   
  
Amara's eyes flashed, and her voice was like a knife. "It's Nova *Roma*, you stupid peasant. I'll thank you not to insult my homeland by mispronouncing its name!" Her pretty features twisted up into a snarl that made Jubilee flinch.  
  
_Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean.[4]_ "OK, then. Nova Roma. Sorry. Now can you quit calling me a peasant, please?"  
  
"Why would I want to do that? It's what you are. Just a rude, childish, insignificant *peasant*."  
  
Jubilee gritted her teeth with an audible crunch. _Forget calm blue ocean, I'm gonna kill her!_ "Look, why don't we share the bed? You have it one night, and then I'll have it the next. That way neither of us has to get backache on a permanent basis."  
  
"I refuse to lower myself to sleeping in *that*." Amara kicked at the camp-bed. There was a low creak, like rending steel, and the leg her foot had made contact with collapsed, sending the array of blankets sprawling across the floor in an ungainly heap.  
  
Jubilee stared. "Now look what you've done," she snapped, and bent down to see if she could fix it. "This isn't *ours*, you idiot. You break it, you bought it - jeez this thing is ancient. I think you broke the metal strut right in two. Glue isn't gonna do any good with this thing, although welding might." Briefly she considered using her powers, but then dismissed the idea. She hadn't yet the control for something so intricate, and deemed herself more likely to blow the whole bed up rather than actually mend anything. "That Mr. Logan isn't gonna be happy about this. No siree. We're probably gonna have to pay for it, as well. Bummer. I don't have any cash. Um, Amara?" She raised her head, wondering at the other girl's sudden silence. She hadn't said two words since the annoyed litany began. "You OK?"  
  
Amara, still seated on the bed, glared down at the oriental girl with something akin to righteous indignation burning in her eyes. More than that, her hair had begun to waft as if caught in a warm breeze, and there were *actual* flecks of red sparking deep in her pupils.  
  
"What did you just call me?" she hissed, sounding like hot metal plunged into cold water.  
  
With a disagreeable jolt, Jubilee realised that she didn't really know what the Princess' mutant powers were, or what she was capable of. Somehow she had the distinct feeling that her abilities involved acts of violence, but that might just have been her dislike of Amara showing through. Then again.....  
  
_ It seems,_ she thought, scrambling to her feet and backing away with all speed, _I'm about to get a personal demonstration._ Her fingertips began to tingle, and her mouth set into a grim line. _If she thinks I'm gonna be a pushover, then she's wrong. Dead wrong._  
  
Amara stood up, raising one fist that promptly burst into flames. Her hair began to wave upwards like it was caught in a funnel, and a curious glow surrounded her body, radiating intense heat the likes of which Jubilee had never felt before, even in the height of Summer.  
  
_Oh f - _  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Ororo was in the kitchen with her back to the door, slicing cucumber and cheese ready to make sandwiches for everybody. A quick glance at the clock had told her that it was way past lunchtime, and she busied herself with various items of food and utensils, humming an old tune to herself as she went.  
  
Her long hair was tied up out of the way into a loose knot on the crown of her head, and, for want of something better, had been speared through with a handy chopstick she found in a drawer, the brother of which had been lost long ago in an unforgettable incident involving Kurt, wet noodles and Lance's locker.  
  
It was quite surprising said fuzzy elf hadn't popped in for a snack yet, considering the time. His metabolism was better than any alarm clock where mealtimes were concerned. Probably he'd already been in that morning and liberated some supplies for his room, she reasoned. The way he'd been acting around the new recruits, it was possible he'd intended to stay in there for the duration, and since food was the only thing possible to make him move when he set his mind to something....  
  
"Hey, Ororo," Bobby strolled into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets and greeted the weather witch like he'd known her all his life. "Got a bit of a problem here."  
  
Sighing, Ororo put down the knife and clod of cheese and swivelled to face him. "Oh dear," she murmured upon immediately seeing what he was talking about. "Oh dear me."  
  
The twenty-seven Jamies gazed back at her, several less tactful ones with their mouths hanging open. Bobby and Roberto were shepherding them from either side, and behind the mass of clones Sam stood sheepishly, scuffing his feet on the tiles.  
  
"Erm, sorry," the southern boy muttered, not raising his eyes. "I kinda had a power blip in the hall, and we all went flying." He gestured at the Jamies. "There were only a few of 'em before."  
  
"Don't worry," three Jamies turned to him and smiled in unison. "As long as you don't bump the original around there shouldn't be any more, and we generally disappear on our own after a while."   
  
{POP}  
  
A grinning Jamie stood next to Roberto fizzled and melted away into the atmosphere, causing the taller boy to jump. "Yow," he yelped. "Relógio para fora![5] Warn me when you're gonna do that, OK?"  
  
"Sorry," replied a Jamie, presumably the original, although it was difficult to tell. "I don't know when that's going to happen. I haven't had my powers long."  
  
"Excuse me," Ororo butted in, reclaiming their attentions. "Is this why you brought him down to see me? I think Professor Xavier might be a better choice of destination for occurrences such as this. He is, after all, the resident expert on mutations."  
  
"Um, actually, this little development was just an accident on the way here," Bobby explained. "The real reason we came to see you is 'cause junior here cracked his head."  
  
The Jamies nodded, and one of them - presumably the original - rubbed at the top of his skull. Ororo knelt by his side and started riffling through his hair, checking for damage.   
  
"Where did you catch yourself?" she asked. He pointed. "Do you feel sleepy at all?"  
  
"Nu-uh, but it hurts." He adopted a rather pathetic expression that put puppy-dogs to shame.  
  
"Well it would do," said Ororo lightly. "Those ceilings aren't made of sponge, you know." She laughed at his ensuing look, caught somewhere between bemused and guilty. "There are still bits of plaster in your hair," she explained, picking one out and crumbling it between her fingers. "Besides, you think nobody else tried bouncing on the bed on their first day? I know I did. Very springy."  
  
As one, the horde of Jamies' jaws dropped open. "You bounced on your *bed*?"  
  
"Hey, I'm not *that* old, kiddo. Give me some credit. I'm not so crusty that I don't know how to enjoy the finer things in life, whatever the students around here would have you believe." Her face twisted into a wry smile. "Although I must admit, Kurt put all of us to shame on his first day at the Institute. He was bouncing off the walls - literally. I doubt even Logan on a good day could keep up with that elf"  
  
Jamie's admiration of Kurt went up several notches at that piece of information, as did his perception of Ororo. Truth be told, he was developing what would later turn out to be his first ever crush on the mutant teacher, and behind the two of them Roberto, Sam and Bobby all exchanged knowing looks as they each recognised the vaguely gooey expression fast descending over the original Jamie's features.  
  
However, any pointed remarks were left unsaid as a large and distinctly explosive crash reverberated around them. Jamie stumbled, and was caught by one of his own clones, which promptly vanished as soon as he'd straightened the original back to his feet.  
  
"Inferno do caralho![6]" Roberto said in quick Portuguese. "Que no mundo era aquele?[7] What in the world was *that*?"  
  
"I don't know," Sam said. "But it came from upstairs."  
  
He was closest to the door, and in one swift movement had turned and bolted out of the kitchen, leaving the others to struggle through the mass of hastily apologising and alternately evaporating Jamies.   
  
~ ^_^ ~  
  
Rahne hadn't been expecting the door to explode. Needless to say, if she had, she wouldn't have been standing in front of it.  
  
Her task had been quite innocent; give Amara her gloves back and attempt to mollify the Nova Roman so that she felt better about leaving her home and journeying across the seas to come and live here.  
  
Rahne knew what it was like to leave home like that. Bayville was nothing like the Scottish Highlands, and definitely nothing like Kilcuthlie. More than once in the past week she'd given in to herself and shifted forms to howl her homesickness at the moon. The balcony outside her window helped a little, since she had an uninhibited view of the sky without any intrusive trees or buildings from there. She had a sneaking suspicion Professor Xavier had engineered it so, but when questioned the telepath had only smiled that mysterious smile of his.   
  
However, it wasn't like home, where all she had to do was glance outside for rolling mountains and green as far as her puny human eyes could see. Bayville was predominantly flat away from the slight incline upon which the Xavier Institute rested, and it was deflating for a mountain-born girl such as herself to be stuck in a place with such monotonous city landscape.  
  
Not that the city itself wasn't fascinating. Rahne had seen towns in her time, and had even been on her way to Edinburgh when approached by an enigmatic man with an offer of sanctuary from what she'd always deemed as a curse she couldn't escape. He'd held out an explanation for her, and she'd grabbed it with both hands, ending up here, in America, with a bunch of kids like her in so many ways and different in so many others. It was comforting, but at the same time, very disconcerting.  
  
It was also very disconcerting to find yourself suddenly being flung through the air and crashing against the opposite wall when previously you'd been standing up. One moment on your feet, the next in a dizzy heap with stars spangling your vision and voices ringing in your ears.  
  
"Oh shit! Now look what you've done *Princess*!"  
  
"Me? How dare you! If you hadn't attacked me in so brutal a fashion - "  
  
"Me? Attack you? Who made the first move Miss 'I'm-gonna-burn-you-to-a-crisp-for-calling-me-an-idiot'? Look, just shut up for a minute while I see if she's OK."  
  
Rahne was vaguely aware of somebody kneeling beside her, and tried to filter out the sparkles crowding her vision as someone asked; "Rahne, isn't it? Rahne, are you alright? Jeez, look at that door, it's trashed! Rahne? Rahne, can you hear me?"  
  
The lycanthrope struggled to sit upright, but sank back down again as the world went blurry and a warm pain erupted from the back of her skull. Instead she settled for grunting non-committally at the voice. Her head felt like it was full of cotton wool, and a suspicious ring of black was starting to creep in.  
  
_Uh-oh._  
  
More voices, thick and fuzzy, followed by the slamming of footsteps along the corridor. Rahne tried to crack open her eyelids, realising for the first time that they'd drifted shut, but each one felt like it was made of lead or at least glued shut with cement. It hurt to think, and she had the overwhelming desire to just go to sleep. Something her body complied with even if her brain wanted to stay awake and see what was going on.  
  
Jubilee jutted out an arm and caught the Scotsgirl as she slumped limply forward. "Oh hell!" she cursed, and followed up with a long trail of Chinese expletives.  
  
Sam, who had thundered to the rescue in such a manner as resembled Scott's patented leader-mode, crouched down and felt for a pulse. "She's out cold," he proclaimed after a moment. "What in the cornbread-hell happened here?"  
  
"We - uh, had a little disagreement," Jubilee offered lamely.   
  
Sam arched an eyebrow at the door, which had been smashed off its hinges and burned black on one side by what appeared to be a large fireball. Beyond it, Jubilee's bedroom was a scene of devastation, with scorch marks peppering the walls and feathers all over the place from where she'd used a pillow to hold off one of Amara's attacks. Both beds had collapsed, and several brand new sheets were torn and rumpled. The dresser was about the only thing still standing, but even *it* was missing a few drawers.  
  
"Some 'disagreement'."  
  
Jubilee looked down at Rahne and chewed on her lower lip. "Shouldn't we, uh... call a doctor or something?"  
  
"For her or for you?" Sam indicated to the fresh cut on Jubilee's arm that showed through her sliced shirt. It was deep, and leaking blood onto her clothes. She took one look at it and swore.  
  
"Aw, man, these duds are new!"  
  
"Serves you right," Amara sniffed. She was still standing, giving herself psychological height, but quailed the tiniest bit as two sets of angry eyes glowered up at her.  
  
"Don't even start, Amara," Sam sighed. "I ain't got no reservations 'bout who started this fight after what I saw in the van. Hot of temper and hot of mutation, remember?" He absently patted the back of his head where he'd lost a few hairs to a singing on the trip back from the airport.  
  
Amara recovered in an instant and thrust her nose high into the air. "One more accusation like that, peasant, and I'll - "  
  
"You'll what?"   
  
All three of them looked up as Ororo came towards them, flanked by Roberto, Bobby and the last four Jamies.  
  
{POP}  
  
Make that last *three* Jamies.  
  
Ororo surveyed the scene and let a lungful of air escape through her teeth. There was the faint scent of burning wood in the air, and she resolved to find the origin of it quick sharpish before it turned into anything more serious. Her eyes travelled to Jubilee's room and the scene of havoc therein, and she suppressed a groan. First Roberto's misfire with his powers, now this? Barely twenty-four hours had passed since the first batch of new mutants arrived at the Institute, and already two rooms were wrecked and one of their number was unconscious.   
  
"Sam, take Rahne to the Infirmary. Jubilee, you go with him and get patched up and then report back here so we can sort out this mess. Amara, you come with me and help clean up until she gets back."   
  
She started forward, wishing to high heaven this hadn't happened on the new students' first day, but stopped upon realising that neither Sam nor Jubilee had moved an inch. "What is it? Come on, get moving."  
  
"We uh," Sam glanced across at the Asian girl. "We don't know where the Infirmary is, ma'am."  
  
Ororo sighed. _Jean?_ It took only a moment to 'hear' a reply.  
  
_Ororo? What's up? I'm kinda busy right now._ The inadvertent image of a toilet bowl seen in close-up filtered through the ether.[8] _I was just - _  
  
_No time for that, I'm afraid. There's been an accident. Could you come upstairs please?_  
  
Sensing the emotion behind her teacher's words, Jean gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. Her next response came while she was on the move. _I'm on my way._  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
"Do you think those new kids'll be OK?"  
  
Scott sipped at his drink. "Why shouldn't they?"  
  
Kitty tilted her head back and contemplated the cloudless sky. "I dunno, I just have a feeling that, like, things aren't gonna be as smooth around here anymore, y'know?"  
  
Evan, whom Kurt was trying to teach the fine art of grass-blowing to, spluttered into his cupped hands. "You think things were smooth around here before? Excuse me, Juggernaut on the rampage, being kidnapped by that psycho Magneto, Sabertooth invading - "  
  
"Like, al*right*," Kitty waved a hand at him irritably. "Yeesh, I was just, like, trying to make conversation, since nobody else was." She encircled her legs with her arms and leant forward onto her kneecaps.  
  
The four of them were sprawled out on the grass in the Institute grounds, Kurt recovering from giving the new recruits a guided tour of the mansion - "They have a lot of energy, even for *me*!" - the rest of them just generally lazing around and catching the last few rays of sunshine the Summer had to offer. Evan had somehow managed to procure a picnic blanket from somewhere, and they were scrunched onto it in an outward-facing huddle.  
  
Scott looked up from a book he'd borrowed from Jean for the umpteenth time since he sat down to read it and squinted at Kitty behind his glasses. "You bored?" he asked idly. "Perhaps Rogue or Jean need a hand. Where are they, anyway?" He glanced around, as if expecting either redhead or Goth to magically appear out of thin air.  
  
"Rogue's in her room," she replied, and then wrinkled her nose. "Jean... I dunno, actually."  
  
"Wrong, Kätzchen," Kurt carolled as he shoved the second half of a sandwich liberated from the 'fridge that morning into his mouth and plucked at another blade of grass. He pressed both furry hands together around the stalk and blew into them, eliciting a harsh blaring not unlike a cat on heat.  
  
"Kurt, stop that!" Kitty clapped a hand over one ear and swatted at him with the other. She missed, and he laughed at her efforts, blowing on the grass again just for the annoyance factor. "What do you mean I'm, like, wrong?"  
  
Kurt paused long enough to gesture at the Institute with his tail. "Rogue's headed this way with....somebody else. Can't quite make out who." He knitted his brows, stood up, and shielded his face with a hand. "It's one of the new kids who arrived yesterday. Whazzizname." He clicked his fingers, grass forgotten and fluttering to the ground in an attempt to recall their newer teammate's identity.  
  
Evan, who had failed dismally at grass-blowing, joined his friend on his feet. "That's Ray," he informed them, and then frowned. "Rogue doesn't look too happy. Now there's a big surprise."  
  
Scott, having been summoned from his book so many times that he'd read the same paragraph thrice and *still* didn't know what it said, closed said tome and swivelled around to watch their approach.  
  
It was true, Rogue was frowning in a way that only Rogue could, and beside her Ray seemed caught between a glower of his own and respect for the intensity of hers. They reached the four on the blanket in a matter of seconds and both Kurt and Evan shifted dutifully aside for Rogue to flop down. Ray, however, hung back a little uncertainly until Kitty moved over enough for him to sit next to her.  
  
"Uh, thanks," he said, parking himself.  
  
"Something up, Rogue?" Kurt hunkered down on the grass beside her. "Warum runzeln Sie die Stirn?[9]"  
  
"Two of the new girls got into a catfight," Rogue replied with a sigh.   
  
Evan's eyes grew round. "Catfight? Whoa, wish I was there."   
  
"No you don't, Porcupine," she asserted, throwing back her head and letting the sun wash over her paler-than-pale face. "They used their powers. Pretty much destroyed their bedroom."  
  
"So, why are *you* frowning about it, Fraulein?"  
  
"'Cause mah new bedroom is right next door, and they trashed a hole in the wall and smashed up mah bed." She turned to Kitty. "Looks like we'll still be sharin' for a while yet, girl. Leastways until they get things fixed up."  
  
Kitty's face was a picture. "What? You mean - you're moving - but how can - the Professor said - oh *fudge*!" She trailed off into a murmured litany about how things weren't fair, and she never got any personal space around this place, and how the Professor *promised* to let her have her own room this year, and how it just wasn't *fair*!   
  
Rogue simply sighed and closed her eyes. Living in the same space as Kitty for an entire year had taught her how to control herself when faced with the other girl's babbling - even if it *was* annoying as hell. Especially when she wasn't exactly thrilled about the situation either.  
  
Kurt grinned at her puckered brow. Even when she was angry, Kitty was kind of cute. He absently picked at another blade of grass and began rolling it between his palms. "So how come you're out here, Ray? Those girls punch a hole in your room, too?"  
  
Ray shook his head. "Nah, I was just bored and looking for something to do around this dump when Goth-girl here found me." He nodded at Rogue.  
  
"The name's Rogue, kid," she replied without opening her eyes. "Call me 'Goth-girl' again and Ah'll ram your teeth right down your throat." Rogue, it seemed, was not in the mood for making the new recruits feel welcome, as ascertained by the choking sound promptly issued from Ray as he clammed up with all speed.   
  
Scott caught Evan's eye and raised his eyebrows so that they showed above his shades. "I think the 'smooth' life just went out the window, don't you?"  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Rahne opened her eyes, and promptly closed them again. She was laying on her back with a stark white bulb hanging above her, and it burned to look up even for a second. She let out a quiet moan at the pounding in her ears, and was rewarded by the sound of movement nearby.  
  
"Rahne?" A voice she recognised as Jean's spoke from around the region of her left shoulder. "You awake?"  
  
"Aye," she replied blearily. "Can someone turn that light off? Feels like my head's about to explode when I open my eyes. Ooch."  
  
More movement, and then a click. The red splotches filtering through her eyelids faded away, and Rahne heaved a grateful sigh before cracking them open once again.  
  
She was greeted by the slightly blurry sight of long red hair and green eyes far too close to her face. Jean jumped back at the resultant squeak, and laid a soothing hand on the little scotsgirl's shoulder.   
  
"Shh, it's alright, it's just me," she murmured, and leaned forward again. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Like someone bashed me on the bonce with a sledgehammer." Gingerly, Rahne touched the back of her skull and winced in pain at the sizeable lump she found. "Yowch. How'd that happen? Where am I, anyway?"  
  
Jean blinked. "You don't remember?" _Please not amnesia. *Please* not amnesia._  
  
Rahne squinted as a few ragged memories flitted back into her brain, and she pieced them together as best she could through the gnawing ache that insisted on emanating throughout her skull. She recalled going to Jubilee's room with.... something for Amara, and then a world of hurt as she.... flew? Evidently not very well, either.  
  
"I had.... an accident," she said dubiously, wondering how much of what she remembered was real, and how much the product of her overactive imagination. "Hit my head.... on a door?"  
  
Jean breathed a sigh of relief. "Almost right. Actually, it was the door that hit *you*, followed by the wall. Gave you a nasty bump. Sam brought you down to the Infirmary not so long ago."  
  
Sam. Blonde hair. Southern accent. Cute butt. Rahne blushed at the extempore thought that popped into her head, especially when the owner of said posterior hove into view at her other shoulder.   
  
A slow smile wormed its way over Jean's face, and Rahne wondered if she'd been projecting. Having only been at the Institute a week her mental shielding was phenomenally low as compared to others, even though she'd been working at it. Having telepaths in the house could be a real bugger sometimes.  
  
"Hey there," Sam said gently. His voice was soft, and he spoke in the low tones of someone who knew what it was like to have a headache-and-a-half. "How you doin', girl?[10]"  
  
Rahne fought down her blush and grinned wolfishly back at him. "Apart from the duck's egg glued to the back of my head, absolutely hunky-dory."   
  
He laughed at that, and to Rahne's great chagrin it sent a shiver down her spine. She shook off the feeling, and immediately winced at the tinatus that elicited. "Ooch, what happened, anyway? Details, people, I want details. From what I can remember I took an impromptu flying lesson and failed the class. So who was my teacher?"  
  
"That would be me." A third, olive coloured face with down-turned eyes appeared next to Jean. The redhead stepped backwards to allow Jubilee access, and Rahne saw that the Asian girl's left arm was swathed in bandages from elbow to wrist.   
  
_What the heck happened?_ she wondered, cursing whatever force had decided to invent headaches.  
  
"Um, Amara and I kinda had a little.... argument." Jubilee said, eyes downcast and more than a little shameful. "It got kinda out of hand."  
  
"Argument?" Sam echoed, incredulity edging his voice. "Looked like it was reachin' thermo-nuclear levels by the time I got there."  
  
"We never meant for anyone to get hurt!" Jubilee snapped, and Sam raised his hands, palms outward, in the universal gesture of submission.   
  
Rahne shifted her weight - lying on her back on a steel table was starting to cut off the blood supply to more embarrassing parts of her anatomy - and croaked; "It's OK, I know powers can get out of hand sometimes. Hell, it's happened to me enough times."   
  
Jean winced as a few unprotected memories of running across fields clad in nothing but a fur coat and a mantle of panic came through, but hid her reaction from the little lycanthrope, respecting her right to privacy.  
  
Jubilee scuffed her feet. "Yeah, but..... I dunno. I feel bad about this happening."  
  
"It takes two to tango, hen," Rahne said sensibly, and lifted her head a smidgen. "I notice your roommate's not around to apologise."  
  
Jubilee raised her good hand and rubbed at the back of her neck in a distinctly embarrassed motion. "Yeah, well, Miss Ororo's kinda got her cleaning up the mess for the time being. I've gotta go join them in a minute, but I just wanted to make sure you were OK first." A beat. "We, ah.... we pretty much destroyed our room." There was a caginess ringing her voice that made Rahne's eyes narrow.  
  
"Spit it out, hen," she said bluntly. "Whatever it is you need to say, just tell me now and stop skirting around it."  
  
For a moment Jubilee seemed shocked. Then her features gave way to an abashed expression. "Well, y'see Rahne, me and Amara kinda hafta share rooms with other people until *both* of ours are fixed up, now. And, uh.... Well, I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on."   
  
Rahne blinked. "You're my new roommate?" She blinked again, processing the information through the fug. Then she smiled. "Coolies!"  
  
Jubilee looked up, a little confused. "'Coolies'? You mean, you don't mind?"  
  
"Mind? Why should I mind?" _At least I won't be lonely *all* the time with somebody else around. Heck, might even help my homesickness some._  
  
Jean's enigmatic smile went unnoticed.  
  
"So, you really don't mind? I mean, it *is* your room and everything."  
  
Rahne tried to swat playfully at her. "Dumb muckle-sumph. I said I don't mind, so I don't mind. Yeesh, I knew Americans were a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket, but this is ridiculous." She looked around her. "Ah... probably not the best thing to say in a room full of natives, is it? Can I blame it on the drugs they gave me?"  
  
"If we'd given you any." Jean folded her arms.  
  
Jubilee let out a big sigh, glad to get that off her chest. "I'd better be going, then," she said, and started for the door. Sam followed close behind, muttering something about unpacking his bags, until Rahne called out to the both of them.  
  
"Hang on a second. So, where's Amara gonna bunk up until her room's fixed?"  
  
Now it was Jean's turn to sigh. "I get that privilege. Joy."  
  
"Do me a favour then, hen."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Warn me when you two are gonna have a power fight, so I don't stand in front of the door again."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
"Urgh, cucumbers." Amara picked at the green circular slices in her sandwich with disdain. "I simply cannot abide cucumbers."  
  
"I'll eat those if you don't want them, Fraulein."  
  
The princess wrinkled her nose in Kurt's general direction. "Just like a peasant to want a nobleperson's scraps." However, she passed them across nonetheless.  
  
Kurt shrugged, rearranging his lunch to fit in the newly acquired foodstuff. "Meh, food is food. Pity to let it go to waste." He took a bite, chewed, and then scrunched up his face in thought. "Needs something. Ah, I know!" He jumped up and pattered to the refrigerator, opening it with a practised hand and riffling around within with many suspect clinkings and clankings of jars, pots and leftovers. "I was sure I left it in here earlier. There was nearly a full pot this morning."  
  
Ray leaned across to Kitty and asked in a low voice, "Is he always like this?"  
  
"Like, worse. We haven't gone grocery shopping in a week, so he's just improvising at the moment. You should see him when the cupboards are, like, full. Human eating machine on the rampage." She speared a forkful of lettuce from the healthy green salad Ororo had made up specially - cheese was far too fattening - and popped it into her mouth with a wet crunching sound.  
  
"I heard that."  
  
"I know you did. That's why I said it."  
  
Lunch was an interesting affair. Half the new students had gathered with the old in the kitchen, and were slowly filtering into the hall as the rest of their number arrived and filled out the cramped space. Ray, Jubilee and Amara - being under the watchful eyes of others - were among the first to enter, followed closely by Roberto, Bobby and the last remaining Jamie. Sam arrived a little after that, and Tabby waltzed in last, showing no symptom of embarrassment at being late.   
  
Of Rahne, Logan, Jean or the Professor there were no signs, and nobody asked where they were. As they all already knew or were promptly informed, the Professor had been on the phone all morning making important calls regarding their academic futures in Bayville and had been sequestered in his study for most of the day.   
  
News of Jubilee and Amara's spat had travelled fast, and the Institute rumour mill had gone into action almost immediately, creating gruesome and colourful consequences of their fight, which included half the building having been blown up and Rahne having been sent home from trauma amongst others. In fact, when the two combatants in question came trailing in after Ororo, several people were rather disappointed to see that Jubilee's bandage was the only minor injury to be had, instead of the dire wounds they'd been expecting.  
  
"What's for eats?" Tabby asked bluntly, eyeing everyone's plates and the contents thereof. "I hope I'm not supposed to eat that rabbit food. I'm a growing girl, y'know." She patted her stomach in a manner that somehow managed to be rather seductive despite the distinctly unsexy part of her anatomy to which she was referring.  
  
Kitty held her plate away protectively, and defiantly ate another cherry tomato. Tabby smirked, but was handed a plate piled high with thick 'doorstop' cheese sandwiches, courtesy of Scott and Kurt, who had found that Ororo had left the job half finished when running to play referee at the ruined bedrooms. The bread was ladled with butter and slices of cheese so chunky it was difficult to bite into without straining her jaw. Kurt was a firm believer in generous helpings, and Scott hadn't the heart today to tell him that 'generous' didn't have to mean overflowing until you got jaw-ache.  
  
"Ha *ha*!" The fuzzy elf in question reappeared from the depths of the 'fridge clutching a jar of something brown and waving it about like a victory torch. "I *knew* we had some left. Now, where's a knife?" He started rummaging through various drawers in search of a clean utensil.  
  
Rogue was close enough to read the label on the jar he'd liberated, and made a face. "Peanut butter? With cheese and cucumber?"  
  
"Not *just* peanut butter," Kurt deadpanned, wagging a finger at her. "*Crunchy* peanut butter, cheese and cucumber." He turned around, revealing a glass something procured by his tail to leave his left hand free for searching.  
  
"Worcester sauce?" Bobby ducked as the bottle nearly clipped his head, but couldn't keep the note of incredulity out of his voice.  
  
"Es tut mir leid[11]," Kurt apologised, lifting a knife from its hiding place and proceeding to lather the inside of his sandwich with the gooey, lumpy stuff. Even as he screwed the lid back on, his prehensile tail had whipped forward and started jotting Worcester sauce over the culinary creation with gusto.  
  
"How can you *eat* that?" Jubilee asked with no small amount of wonder.  
  
"Easy," Kurt replied, grafting his trademark grin onto his face. "Pick up, bite, chew and swallow. Surely your mother taught you how to do *that*, Fraulein?" His manner was light, his banter easy, but those more familiar with Kurt's nuances and subtleties heard the nervous edge to his voice and saw the odd gleam in his eyes that told of an apprehension around these newcomers he was trying desperately to beat down. Their little display in his bedroom that morning had helped the situation immensely, but it would be some time before he trusted them as much as he did his old teammates.  
  
"Actually," Tabby slid forward to stand behind the elf and snagged the bottle from his tail. "That ain't such a bad idea. Got any ketchup, blue boy?"  
  
Kurt stiffened slightly at the nickname, but gamely passed her the squeezy ketchup bottle, which she proceeded to squelch all over the inner of her sandwich. The red mess was quickly followed by a few dabs of Worcester sauce - not so much as Kurt had used, but still enough to make several of those gathered pull faces and/or make gagging gestures around mouthfuls of partly chewed bread.  
  
"What?" Tabby asked in mock-innocence. "Jeez, you guys are boring. Learn to lighten up a little. You'll live longer." And to emphasize she took a huge bite of her sandwich and chewed with every indication of enjoyment.  
  
Kurt watched her with gratification. "Some people just don't know what they're missing, do they blonder-kopf?"  
  
"Hmmm?" Tabby turned slightly confused eyes on him. "I dunno what you just called me, but hell yeah. You got any relish around this place?" He tossed her a small jar. "Thanks."  
  
"Oh gods, I think I'm going to be sick!" Amara pursed her lips. It was true; she did look slightly green about the gills, although whether from the sight of the duo's food or the fact that she was being made to associate with members of a lower order on a social basis was unclear.   
  
"Not on the floor, please," said a voice from the doorway. "You'll have to clean it up yourself if you do, and believe me, that's not a pleasant task."  
  
Scott looked up and smiled. "Jean, Rahne. We were wondering what black hole you two had fallen into."  
  
"Hey Scott." The pair of tall and short redheads walked in, smelling vaguely of carbolic soap and antiseptic, fresh from the Infirmary. "Nice to know you care."  
  
"Mmm, something smells good," Rahne said, tilting her extra-sensitive nose and inhaling a deep breath of kitchen air. A small band-aid on her forehead just beneath her hairline was the only clue to her earlier escapades, and the cheery grin fixed to her face waylaid any queries people may have had about how she was feeling. "Red Leicester?"  
  
"Well, it was to begin with." Evan gestured at the masterpieces Kurt and Tabby were preparing. "What it's gonna end up as is anybody's guess."  
  
"Art, mein Freund," said Kurt grandly, flourishing his tail. "Art."  
  
"Well, is there any chance of some 'art' being left for us?" Jean asked with a wry grin. Two plates made their way over and through a sea of hands towards them. "Thanks - whoa! Lemmie guess, Kurt made them, right?"  
  
"Something wrong with mein food, Fraulein?"  
  
"Not at all. Just admiring the handiwork and wanted to congratulate the cook on such an excellent job."  
  
"Hey!" Scott adopted a hurt look. "I helped make those too, y'know. I work and I slave, and the fuzz-man gets all the credit."  
  
Kurt grinned. "You'd better believe it." He ducked into a lower cupboard, crouching and leaning in to fumble around at the back for something. A muffled 'crump' and Teutonic curse issued out in short order, and his head briefly emerged so that he could suck his stubbed finger. "Alright, who left this in here?" He held up a strange looking metal contraption that wouldn't have looked out of place in a torture chamber.  
  
Rogue squinted at it. "Hey, mah eyelash curlers," she declared, and snatched at them. "Thanks, Kurt. Ah was wonderin' where these had gone."  
  
Kurt blinked as she pocketed them without a further word, then shook his head and delved back into the cupboard. "I don't even wanna ask."  
  
Roberto paused in his sandwich long enough to mutter, "Este lugar mantem-se apenas começar mais estrando.[12]"   
  
"Good afternoon, students," said Professor Xavier as he wheeled into the room with a nod and friendly greeting. Beside him Logan spared a curt nod at Ororo, and then took up his usual place at the window, scaring its current occupant - Evan - away with a single glance.  
  
"Hey, Professor," replied the majority of kids. Some of the newer models exchanged wary glances before answering, still a little unsure of how to address the telepathic teacher.  
  
Xavier halted his chair and steepled his hands, casting a look around at the assembled teens with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "I hear we had some excitement earlier. I'm afraid I missed it, since I was in my study, and then taking care of a little business." Translation; in the computer room using Cerebro. "Ororo tells me it was quite the demonstration." His gaze rested slightly longer on Jubilee and Amara, and in particular on Jubilee's bandage, before moving on.  
  
The Asian girl chewed her lower lip, and butted in hastily. "I'm.... I'm sorry for what happened, Mr. Xavier. I can.... pay for the damages I - we - caused." _Somehow. Don't know *how* exactly, but I'm sure I can raise the cash somehow._  
  
Xavier caught the surface thought and smiled, waving a dismissive hand. "No need, my dear. After all, there are some stories behind each of the students' first days that far dwarf your little escapade."   
  
Scott looked distinctly uneasy, but said nothing.   
  
Jubilee scuffed her feet. "But.... I feel like I should, I dunno; make it up to you, or something. You want me to do extra chores? I can work real good."  
  
The bald man's expression switched momentarily to one of seriousness, and he focussed on the two girls with a grave tone. "The only thing I ask is that you use this as a lesson for yourselves, and learn by it. I hope it's showed you that reckless use of your powers can result in upsetting consequences. You each have to be responsible for your abilities, and take accountability for anything and everything you do with them. We all do. It's a responsibility that comes along with the X-gene, I'm afraid." His words struck a chord in each of the young mutants' hearts, and they found themselves nodding at them almost unconsciously.   
  
Tabby, never one to focus for too long on sobering thoughts if she could help it, was the first to shake off the feeling he elicited, and bent down to touch Kurt's shoulder. "Hey, Blue - "  
  
Kurt yelped at the unanticipated contact, jerking upwards and banging his head on a shelf. He retracted from the cupboard toute-de-suite, clutching at his skull and muttering curses in both German and Romani[13], though the blonde girl couldn't tell the difference between them. "Ja?" he demanded, squeezing one eye shut in an effort to force down the pain in his scalp.  
  
"Um, I was just gonna ask, is that mayonnaise?" She indicated to the white-filled bottle in his hand. Kurt glanced down at it, and then up at her guardedly.  
  
"Ja, why?"  
  
It was gone before he even had time to blink, and for a moment Kurt questioned whether super-speed or partial teleportation were also parts of Tabby's mutant powers.   
  
"Thanks. This is just what my sandwich needed."  
  
Kurt blinked, resisting the urge to scratch his head. "Uh, you're welcome?"  
  
The exchange brought everyone else back to themselves, and lunch continued for a few minutes in amiable chatter and exclamations as chopped onion, mayonnaise, mint sauce and half a boiled egg also found their way to Kurt's sandwich. He polished of his gastronomic handiwork with glee, revelling in the reaction he got off his friends as much as in the actual flavour, and even going so far as to lick his furry fingers afterwards and smirk as Tabby finished her food not long after. Whatever her faults, Tabby had a strong stomach, and Kurt discovered himself admiring her and the way she handled herself in the face of other's disdain at her tastes.   
  
"Ah, go suck on a lemon you bunch of prudes." She stuck out her tongue, still graced as it was by bits of food, and blew a large raspberry.  
  
"Very mature response, I'm sure," Xavier smiled. "Now, if you've all finished?" There was a chorus of assent, and he nodded. "Good. If you'll all follow me for a moment, there's something I'd like to show you." He flipped a switch and backed up out of the room.  
  
The students tagged along behind him in small groups, laughing and talking in the manner of people trying to make an effort, and the affable atmosphere was only marred by Rogue's embed frown and a few misplaced curses from Ray, who was displaying quite an propensity for colourful language.  
  
Gradually they descended lower into the Institute, snaking down flights of stairs and along corridors that lacked windows to the outside world at all. Soon the delicately crafted wood panelling that ran along all the walls of the mansion gave way to metal that shone with a polished sheen, and their footsteps echoed on steel flooring that replaced the deep-pile carpet after about ten minutes or so.   
  
The new recruits shot curious glances around at the changed environment, alternatively admiring their reflections in the gleaming metal and looking around suspiciously as they sank further into the very bowels of the Institute itself. An odd whirring filled the air from the luminescent overhead lights, and their babble died away to a guarded hum directed at the 'oldies'.   
  
"Hey, where's this guy taking us anyway?"  
  
"What is this place? Kinda freaky if you ask me."  
  
"Fuck me 'till the cows come home, this place is like summat out of a sci-fi flick."  
  
"You been around here before?"  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
"What's he wanna show us, anyhow?"  
  
"Where are we *going*?"  
  
Scott adopted his patented leader mode and explained; "This is the training part of the Institute, where we learn how to control our powers without risk to anyone else. It's further underground so that we can train without posing a risk to the public down in Bayville."  
  
"That's a possibility?" Bobby asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "But Bayville's so far away from the mansion. Surely nothing we do here could affect them all the way down there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, imprecisely gesticulating to the 'down there' of which he spoke.  
  
"Most of our powers are far-reaching," Jean put in. "If we didn't contain them like this then innocent people could be hurt as well as ourselves when we work at controlling our abilities. Y'know, stretching them to see how far they'll go or how potent we can be upon command? People could get hurt if we went about just shooting off lasers, or bolts of lightning every which way. This way there's less chance of that happening. It's not foolproof, but then, research into the field of mutations isn't exactly a well-staffed line of work. We don't know exactly what would contain all powers everywhere, so we do the best we can and just cross our fingers with every new power introduced and session endured, basically."  
  
"Quite, Jean," Xavier agreed from up ahead. "It's my belief that we shall never fully comprehend the full extent of every mutant everywhere and the strength of their abilities, but working with a few affiliates across the world we've managed to construct a training facility that can equal any mutation discovered thus far, keeping it contained and safely away from any innocent members of the public while not posing a danger to the mutant him or herself."  
  
"Um, what exactly do you mean 'training sessions'?" Roberto queried. Beside him, Bobby nodded.  
  
"I didn't come here to take any extra gym classes," he muttered rebelliously.  
  
"Exactly what the man says, kid." Logan's voice, echoing from behind them, made most, if not all the kids jump at least a foot in the air. He quirked an eyebrow at their reaction, but said nothing about it. "You train to see the extent of your powers, and then how much control you got over 'em, and how much more you can get by doing exercises designed specifically for your abilities. Y'also work as a team on various simulations to see how well ya mix n' match and operate as a unit. Character building, ya might say."  
  
Jamie gave a small 'eep'. Having been raised on a diet of Jerry Springer and other talk shows, 'character building' was associated with one other thing in his young mind. "You mean like Boot Camp?"  
  
At this Logan snorted, but his expression remained unreadable. "I'm not that bad, kid. I'll make ya work hard, don't get me wrong, but I ain't gonna deprive you of food if you don't do stuff right."  
  
"Don't believe him," Kurt whispered with a grin. "He's a slave driver, really."  
  
"A slave driver with really good hearin', Elf, so watch yer mouth."  
  
Kurt gave a sharp salute that elicited a watery smile from the moderately convinced Jamie. "Yessir!"  
  
They reached a large, rounded door that stretched from ceiling to floor with room to spare. Two shafts of steel had been arranged across it in the resemblance of a giant 'X'.   
  
_Not self-indulgent at all,_ Jubilee thought wryly, and leaned across to Rahne.  
  
"You ever been down here before?"  
  
"Uh-huh. It's a wee bit of a shock at first, but you soon get used to it."  
  
Jubilee blinked. "Huh?"  
  
Xavier stopped in front of the door, rearranging himself so as to have better access to the control panel on the wall to the right. He tapped in a few numbers, and then paused, index finger hovering over the number five key.   
  
"I'm going to ask you now not to speak of this to anyone outside of the Institute," he said gravely. "Humanity is not yet ready for Mutantkind, I fear, and if we are to continue with our work here then telling every Tom, Dick and Harry about our training facilities might stir interest we don't want, and spark investigations that could lead to mutants' exposure and the termination of this school. Permanently."  
  
Bobby, at the forefront of the crowd, arched his aerobic eyebrow again. "Heavy, Professor Xavier. Nothing like a good portent of doom to get you going, huh?"  
  
"Bobby - "  
  
"Hey, don't sweat it." To emphasize, he iced up his hand. "It's cool. I won't tell." There was a murmur of assent from the other new mutants.  
  
"I'm serious, Bobby," Xavier said, twisting a little to look squarely at the young boy. "I know I sound melodramatic, but believe me, if people were to find out about this place then the results could be.... unconstructive."  
  
"Rough translation bein', if you tell about this part of the Institute, then there's every likelihood they'll close us down," Logan supplemented, folding his arms and leaning on the metal wall. "You'll understand better once you've seen inside the DR."  
  
"DR?" Ray repeated.  
  
"Danger Room," Rogue deadpanned.  
  
As Xavier input in the last digit of the code, an almost audible gulp sounded from several throats.   
  
Danger Room? That didn't sound encouraging. Not one bit.  
  
A stiff breeze blew at them as the huge doors slid open, and a snake-like hiss rent the air. A few covered their faces, but were soon tempted out from behind their arms by the gasps issued from everyone else at what lay beyond the vast double doors.  
  
The Danger Room was a pure spectacle. Fashioned of virtually every type of metal imaginable, it stretched the length of more than three football fields across, and a vaulted ceiling bristling with wires and metal panelling soared overhead like a second sky. On one side jutted a huge pane of glass behind which was obviously a control room of some description, but even with this the sheer immensity of the place wasn't diminished.  
  
They trawled in, reverently silent for a moment. It was like some great metal church, and some of them half-expected a robotic minister to pop up at any moment, electronic prayer book in hand.  
  
"....'Kin hell," Ray breathed, with as much akin to veneration as he could muster.   
  
"Welcome to the Danger Room," Xavier said, his voice reverberating around the massive chamber like a knell. "And your new training facility."  
  
"It's...." Jubilee began.  
  
Roberto said something nobody ill-versed in Portuguese could understand. "É como algo de um filme![14]"  
  
"Sci-Fi to the max," muttered Sam. "It looks like something the government would love to get their sticky little mitts on."  
  
"No doubt they would," Xavier allowed with a sage bob of his head. "The Danger Room utilizes every new technology available, and some that aren't." At the curious looks that educed, he tapped at the side of his nose. "The training simulations we run here are cutting edge, perhaps even better than what the government uses."  
  
"Oh?" Tabby, ever cynical, folded her arms. "And how would you know that?"  
  
"I have my contacts."  
  
Somewhere behind them, Logan snorted. "Chuck's network's like a fucked up spider web. There's so many links and connections across the board even *he* has trouble remembrin' 'em all sometimes."  
  
Beside him, Ororo frowned. "Logan," she said, a hint of warning to her tone. He tutted to himself and held up his hands.  
  
"I know, I know, less of the mouth. Jeez, you're worse than a mother, 'Ro."  
  
"Just trying to look out for our new recruits' well-being," she replied, a trifle sanctimoniously.  
  
Ray tapped at a wall, which lit up along the edges to the metal panels and started up a low humming not unlike a dog growling. "Fuck me running backwards, this get-up is seriously sweet. You mean we can blow stuff up in here and not get the shit chewed out of us?" His face lit up in a roguish grin.   
  
"I think they're a little past that, 'Ro."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
"Where the fuck did I put them?" Ray tossed aside a textbook his parents had assured him would be useful and glowered into the cardboard box. "I *know* I packed them in here somewhere. Jesus, I hope she didn't take them out." Another book flew over his shoulder. "It'd be just like her to do something like that."  
  
The room behind him was, in short, reminiscent of a bombsite. His possessions were strewn about haphazardly, and odd pieces of clothing half on and half off hangers dangling off his bed and wardrobe doors where he'd thrown or placed them in the search for something else. An empty soda can rested on the pillow of his unmade bed, and the wrappers of numerous candy bars - courtesy of his mother - littered the sheets.   
  
It wasn't surprising, really. Living in the sewers for six months doesn't exactly do wonders for a person's hygiene or sense of neatness, so it was understandable that his room was going to be a little messy. The fact that he was a teenage boy could also be held accountable for Ray's ostensibly incurable lack of cleanliness. However, he'd been back at home for three weeks before coming here, and Mrs. Crisp was a stickler for tidiness to the extent that she virtually followed her son around with a vacuum when he so much as open a bag of potato chips, hovering his shirt if crumbs dared to sully the fabric.   
  
{CRASH}  
  
Another wildly thrown tome hit the bedside lamp.  
  
"Aw, damn!" Ray picked it up off the floor, examining for damage. There was none, and he replaced the item and returned to sorting through the cardboard box he'd neglected to unpack yesterday, turning the air a spectacular shade of blue. If anybody could've heard him then they probably would've blushed, but as it was he was alone in his bedroom. He'd returned from the Danger Room tour with a nagging penchant in the back of his mind, and duly locked the door so that he could get a bit of private time for his favourite hobby.  
  
However, it wasn't to be.  
  
A curious swishing sound caught his attention, and he turned around just in time to see a pair of feet appear in his ceiling.  
  
"What the fuck - ?"  
  
They were well-dressed feet, but somehow that wasn't what held him, and he watched open-mouthed as they sank literally through the plaster, followed by a shapely pair of legs in denim pedal-pushers. In due course, the rest of the strange phenomenon materialised, and landed with a faint 'plop' on the disastrous bed.  
  
"Like, huh?" said Kitty staring about her with patent confusion. "This isn't the bathroom."  
  
"The hell it ain't!" Ray swivelled around from where he'd been kneeling and fixed her with a steely gaze. "This is my room. What the fuck you playing at, bursting in like that?"  
  
Kitty blinked wide blue eyes, and flushed crimson. "Oops, sorry about that. I used to live on this floor, right above the ladies room. I forgot I'm living on the next floor up now." She raised her gaze. "Um, are you, like, unpacking or something?"  
  
"No, I'm paragliding," Ray snapped. "What's it look like I'm doing?"  
  
She picked up a pair of crumpled shorts and held them at arms length. "Making a mess, that's what. And, like, ew! Purple is totally not your colour."  
  
He snatched at the offending article and stuffed it into a nearby backpack. "When I want fashion advice from a Valley Girl, I'll ask for it."  
  
"Well excuse *me*." Kitty frowned. "There's no need to be so rude about it. I was only, like, trying to make conversation. Sheesh!" She paused for a moment, then; "Would you like a hand? You look as though you could use it."  
  
"No, I would not like a hand. I would like you to leave." Ray grit his teeth and rose to his feet. Alternately stalking and picking his way across the length of the room, he opened the door (kicking aside yet another vacant cardboard box in the process) and gestured outside into the corridor with an irritated thumb. "The John's down that way."  
  
Kitty stood up, lips pursed. "Hey, I was just trying to be friendly. Jeez, what is it with you new guys? Between you and that Tabitha girl, I'm surprised my head's still attached." She 'humphed' indignantly, and started walking, only to have her feet attacked mid-stalk by a pair of sneakers tied together by their laces. She stumbled, gave a small 'eep' and landed face-first in something she really would've preferred not to. "Oh man, sick. Didn't you do any, like, laundry before you came here? Eeeeew!"  
  
Sighing, Ray offered a hand and hauled her to her feet. Kitty gave a precursory nod as thanks, and started picking bits of lint, hair and other assorted odds and ends from her clothes with a mumbled litany against the male of the species, tidiness, and their criminal lack thereof.   
  
"Look, I'm sorry about the mess, alright," Ray said after listening for a few uncomfortable minutes. At home he never would've considered apologising for his personal chaos, but here people seemed to be extra sensitive about stuff like that. _Must be all the money pumped into this place. Too expensive to even *breathe* around here._ "I'm.... still getting used to living in places like...." he gestured at the room, "This."  
  
"What, the mansion? It's not that different to a normal house as far as bedrooms go. Four walls, bed, furniture and things. Mine's virtually the same as the one back home once my stuff's in it."  
  
_Yeah, but compared to a sewer...._ Ray bit back the acidic words he was just itching to vent at her. Girls were good eye-candy, and he'd had his fair share of drooling after them back home in New York. At least, until his powers first kicked in, levelling half the school gym and driving him underground in a bid to escape the devastating consequences whenever they flared up again. However, girls were also, in his experience, nags and gossips with bugs terminally up their noses; especially where *he* was concerned. The only exception was probably Callisto, but she had her own share of undesirable, if far less feminine qualities. He still had the scars to show for that.  
  
Kitty seemed to sense he was keeping something from her, and gave him a long, penetrating look that was known to make other boys squirm in their boots. Kurt had often been relegated to telling her his latest tale of misdemeanour after approximately two point five seconds of 'The Look' as he called it, and Evan didn't even make it that far.  
  
Ray, however, was a different kettle of fish entirely. He squared his jaw at the smaller girl, and there was a blatant challenge written in his eyes that said, _You gonna push me, girl?_  
  
Arching an eyebrow, Kitty shrugged, and with her body language replied, _No._  
  
This threw Ray somewhat. He was used to being threatened and disputed over things. Most of the marks and subsequent bad attitude he had came from when he'd questioned Callisto's authority, or else gone off and done his own thing on a mission and been severely punished for it by whatever senior member of the Morlocks he was supposed to be obeying.   
  
Come to think of it, that was exactly how that dude Xavier had found him in the first place - out on his own, too close to the surface.   
  
It was only meant to have been a reconnaissance mission to scope out the band of thugs who'd chosen to make their base far too close to the Alley, but it'd turned into so much more when Ray took it upon himself to home in and find out what they were really up to. The last thing Callisto wanted was for a bunch of drug pushers or similar to start bringing hordes of customers down into the tunnels beneath the city. All it would've taken was a single glimpse of one of the Morlocks with more visible mutations to start uproar in they streets above, and cause havoc amongst the peaceful underworld dwellers who only wanted to be left alone.  
  
Unfortunately, Ray possessed none of Callisto's silence or stealth. He'd been easily discovered by the wily thugs, and forced into a fight that led almost to the surface itself. Had it not been for Xavier and his bladed henchman turning up at exactly the right moment, it was possible Ray would've seen his end down in those tunnels. Instead, he'd been offered a place here, at this Upworld home for freaks and abnormalities like him.  
  
The invitation had been extended to the rest of the Morlocks also, but they'd long since left back into the underworld after the strangers appeared; considering Ray lost. Since it was forbidden to show Upworlders the location of the Alley on pain of death, Ray had accepted Xavier's invitation with only a small amount of regret.   
  
The Morlocks had been good to him, for the most part, and in the weeks that followed he'd wondered more than once how they were getting on without him around.  
  
_Probably a lot better,_ he thought acrimoniously. _No Hot-Head around to fuck up missions and put them all in danger no more._ The nickname had been given him by Feral when he botched yet another operation due to recklessness, and adopted by her sister, Thornn, to such an extent that it had become his name more than 'Ray' to they and the others who'd taken up the chant.  
  
A hand waved in front of his face, startling him from his thoughts.  
  
"Like hel-*lo*," Kitty said, poking him once in the chest for good measure. "Are you, like, even listening to me?"  
  
"Huh, wha - " Ray blinked. "Uh, yeah..."  
  
"Are you, like, OK? You totally zoned out for a minute there."  
  
He rubbed at the back of his head, embarrassed. "Uh, sorry, just thinking."  
  
"Did it hurt?"  
  
It took a moment for the comment to register, then; "Hey! Fuck you!"  
  
Kitty laughed; a tinkling, merry sound. "Just kidding. Jeez, learn to lighten up, some, wouldja?" She pushed past him into the hall, and then turned back. "You got the time?"  
  
Ray shook his head, showing bare wrists.  
  
"It's three fifty," she showed him her watch - emblazoned with a nauseatingly sweet picture of a kitten, he noted - which did indeed read that it was ten to four in the afternoon. "I don't think the Professor's got anything else formal planned for today. Settling in time and all that. Just thought you might like to know that dinner's at seven, and that Ororo gets real mad if we're late."  
  
Ororo. Ray thought of the exotic woman and suppressed a derisive smile. "What, she created a rain-cloud to follow you around if you don't turn up on time?"  
  
"Almost," Kitty deadpanned. "She's very accurate with small lightning bolts, y'know, and butts make very good targets. Best to be in the dining room a little beforehand." She turned to go, and Ray made as if to close the door until she leaned backwards and called, "And, by the way if you're looking for them, your cigarettes are on the window sill. You know, those things are, like, totally bad for you, and you're not allowed to smoke in the Institute."  
  
"Write that down and mail it to last week when I might've cared." He shut the door and went to the window; where the elusive white packet he'd been searching for lay. However; "Now, where did I put that lighter?" He surveyed the wrecked bedroom. "Aw, crap!"  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
"Hell, not again! Don't you dare! Don't you *dare*!"  
  
Bobby paused, looking around to see where the angry voice had come from. _Someone talking to me? But I haven't done anything. Well, not lately, at any rate._  
  
He located it toute-de-suite as emanating from a half-open doorway further down the hall, not incredibly far from his own room, in fact. Being rather an inquisitive person by nature - read, nosy - he decided on impulse to see what was going on, and pushed open the door with his foot without either invitation or warning.  
  
"Hey!" said an indignant voice, but whatever else it may have been about to say gurgled away in the owner's throat as Bobby walked brazenly in with both hands clamped over his eyes.   
  
"Everybody decent in here?" he asked the air in front of him.  
  
"Jesus, Bobby, you could at least say hello if you're gonna burst in like that."   
  
He removed his hands to see Sam sitting cross-legged on his neatly made bed. His room was impeccable, and there was a laptop balanced on his long legs with a black wire stretching from the back to the phone plug on the wall. The hands suspended above the keyboard were an indication that the southern boy had been typing something before being so rudely interrupted.  
  
"What did you think I was doing in here that you had to close your eyes, anyway?"  
  
"You really wanna know?"  
  
A moment's thought. "Actually, no." Sam's hands fell away from the keys. "Something I can do for you?"  
  
"Just wondering what you were up to. You unpacked already?" Bobby glanced about him. "Have help?"  
  
"Nu-uh. My Momma always made sure I could keep myself tidy away from home, though. Guess she drilled in into me a lot better than I thought."  
  
"Writing an email?" the younger boy pointed at the laptop, and was a little startled when Sam hit the thing with the flat of his hand.  
  
"I *was*, and I would be if the cotton-pickin' thing didn't keep jamming afore I get to sending anything." He hit it again, and it beeped angrily but didn't unfreeze. "Darnit!"  
  
"Just who exactly are you sending mail to when you haven't even been here a whole day?" Bobby thought about his own mother and father, who, truth be told, he hadn't given much consideration to, what with all the cool new things to do and investigate under Professor Xavier's roof. "You can't have that much to say, surely?"  
  
At this, Sam seemed surprised. "I just wanted to let everyone back home in Kentucky know I got here safe and sound so they don't worry. Ain't you done the same for your folks?"  
  
"Uh, actually, no." Bobby felt a smidgen of guilt as he said it, but waved the feeling away almost as soon as it appeared. "They know I'm fine, anyhow. Besides, even if I were to send them an email, they wouldn't get it. My parents aren't exactly open-minded with new technologies. *I* was the only one in the house even remotely computer-literate. My Mom thinks the Internet is the Anti-Christ."   
  
"I know what you mean," Sam nodded sagely. "We never even got a phone-line until recently. Too new-fangled for my Grandma who used to live with us, and my folks generally listened to everything she had to say without question. Even now, I doubt my Dad would know what a hard-drive was if it jumped up and bit him."  
  
"So how are you expecting them to get that email, then?" Bobby asked with a rare showing of sensibleness.   
  
However, Sam just shrugged. "My kid sister, Paige'll pick it up and print out a copy for them. If it's on paper, they'll read it, even if they don't understand how exactly it got there." He hit the computer again, which duly gave off a fizzling nose and plunged the screen into blackness. "Aw, no! Don't die on me!"  
  
"It gone dead?" Bobby enquired needlessly.  
  
"Dead, buried, and six feet under." Sam rested his chin on a fist and blew a lock of errant blonde hair from his eyes. "Darnit, this thing was new as well."  
  
"So take it back. Get a refund or replacement. Still got the receipt?"  
  
Promptly, Sam's expression shifted to something akin to embarrassment. He gave a nervous laugh. "Well, it ain't that simple, y'see. This came from one of my Dad's friends, who had a friend, who - "  
  
Bobby raised his palms. "Lemmie guess, it fell off the back of a truck?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"I used to have an uncle just like that. Every time he came over to visit, it'd be 'I got something you really wanna see, Bobby. You'll really be missing out on the chance of a lifetime of you don't buy these giant inflatable bananas off me right now. Half price and selling like hotcakes, they are. So how many can I put you down for?'"  
  
"Giant inflatable bananas?"   
  
"Uh-huh. Somehow he managed to con me into buying twenty of the things. And the time before that it was anti-snoring devices. I got fifteen of those stashed away someplace. I must have 'sucker' printed across my forehead or something." He sighed. "So what're you gonna do about that thing, then?"  
  
"Huh? Oh. I'll see of the Professor or someone can do something with it." Sam raised the offending computer and looked it over critically. "I think I remember someone saying that Kitty girl is good with computers. Maybe I'll ask her."  
  
"Methinks that would be the kiss of death, mein Freund," said an accented voice from the doorway.   
  
Both boys turned to look at the furry blue figure therein, and Sam waved him inside with a friendly smile.  
  
"Hey, Kurt. Pull up a chair."  
  
"Well that's nice," Bobby said, mock-indignantly. He rammed his fists against his hips and tutted, rolling his eyes. "You offer *him* a chair, but I didn't even get so much as a hello."  
  
"Excuse me? *You* walked in on *me*, remember? So what's happenin', Kurt?"  
  
"Not much, I'm afraid." Kurt swung around the desk-chair all the students' rooms came equipped with and sat astride it, leaving his tail to wave freely behind him. "I was bored, so I thought I'd come visit."  
  
"We're humbled by your presence." Bobby bowed with a dramatic flair, and came up grinning from ear to ear. "Actually, I gotta scoot now, so I'll just leave you two alone together." And with that, he scooted. Clean out of the door before either of the other two mutants had chance to say goodbye.  
  
"Yipes," said Kurt peering after him and looking for the proverbial cloud of dust. "You sure his power doesn't include super-speed as well as ice? That guy could give even Quicksilver a run for his money, I'd wager."  
  
"Quicksilver?" Sam screwed up his face.   
  
"Long story," Kurt answered with a sigh.  
  
"Sounds like a gambling joint."  
  
"Actually, it's another mutant. Pietro Maximoff's his real name. He and Evan... don't get on so well. Lotta history between those two."  
  
"Old boyfriend?"  
  
"What? No, no, no - nothing like that. More of a rivalry thing they've had going on since they were old enough to kick the snot out of each other."  
  
Sam blinked, perplexed. "So, I take it there are some people living here I still ain't met yet."  
  
However, Kurt shook his head. "You haven't met them yet, but they don't live here. The Brotherhood lives in the Boarding House on the other side of town."  
  
"Brotherhood?"  
  
"Even longer story. Believe me, you don't wanna know about them. They're bad news."  
  
Closing the deceased laptop, Sam put it aside onto the bedcovers and shifted his legs to let the blood flow freely again. "Try me. I ain't got nothing better to do."  
  
Kurt sucked a lungful of air in through his teeth, but complied. "All right then. Prepare to be dazzled...."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Dinner passed in relevant quiet, with amiable conversation and the odd comment about Kurt's eating habits being the only excitement throughout. Ray kept a slightly firmer clamp on his penchant for flowery language than usual, after a warning from Scott about Logan's predilection for taking his own loss of loose-tongue out on others who chose to curse in public. Kitty's words about Ororo and *her* brand of discipline were also still fresh in Ray's mind, and though by the next morning he'd be back to swearing at anything and everything that moved, for this evening - at least with the teachers present - he jammed a lid on his potty-mouth.  
  
Ororo's cooking was nothing to be sniffed at. The food itself was plain enough, but she seemed to have a natural talent for spices and used them to great effect so that more than once the new students commented on the spectacular fare. In virtually no time at all the meal was gone, and Kurt was licking his plate clean - literally.  
  
"Elf," Logan warned.  
  
Kurt put down his gleaming plate with a sigh. "Any chance of more?"  
  
A few places down Bobby sniggered, and his voice rose a few pitches as he said, "Please, sir, I'd like some more."  
  
Ororo shook her head. "Sorry, Kurt. You've had three helpings already. There's none left, I'm afraid."  
  
Kurt replied with a non-committal grunt and sank back in his seat.  
  
"But we have dessert."  
  
He perked up at that, tail swishing appreciatively, and soon was tucking energetically into a hefty bowl of strawberry ice cream lathered in chocolate sauce and sprinkles. Such was his speed that he'd polished off two bowlfuls before the others had even finished their first, and leaned back patting his stomach with a happy sigh.  
  
"That is what I call a *meal*," he said, picking at something between his teeth. "Almost as good as my Mama's back home."  
  
Ororo looked up. "I'll take that as a compliment, then?"  
  
Next to him, Kitty elbowed Kurt in the stomach and frowned. "Kurt, like, use a toothpick or something. You'll make yourself sick like that."  
  
The elf responded by clutching at his midriff and letting out a theatrical groan. "Oooh, bitte Kätzchen, not the stomach. Anything but the stomach."  
  
One by one they finished up, and those not allocated the chore of cleaning and washing up were respectively dismissed. The newer students followed their older counterparts as they trundled through and took up residence in the rec. room with many a full sigh and jostle for comfortable seating.   
  
With a faint buzz, the giant wide-screen TV therein fizzled into life, and the nightly pastime of the X-Men swung into action with gusto - namely, fighting over the remote.  
  
"Come *on*, Scott," Kitty grabbed unsuccessfully for the device. "You totally hogged the TV last night. Give someone else a chance!"  
  
"Like, no way man!" Evan chipped in from where he was sprawled sideways over the armchair. "We give you the remote and we'll be watching re-runs of Melrose Place all evening."  
  
Kitty shot him The Look. "And what's wrong with Melrose Place? Beats your idea of entertainment down the plughole."  
  
Evan spread his hands. "Scott, buddy, toss it here and lets watch some real TV for a change, huh?"  
  
"Nu-uh," Rogue appeared behind where Scott and Jean were sitting squashed up between Jubilee and Jamie on the couch, "Give it here. There's a program Ah wanna watch on MTV."  
  
"Yeah, 'Top Ten Songs to Commit Suicide By'," Kitty quipped, and made a grab for the remote again. She fell short, however, as Rogue plucked it from their leader's grasp and darted away back to her chair. "Hey, no fair! Chasing you involves getting up!"  
  
Rogue stuck out her tongue in a very un-Rogue-like way and flipped the channel to some black-clad band playing guitars and screaming incoherently at the camera. Rogue frowned. "Damnit, it ain't started yet."  
  
"All the more reason to share the wealth, Fraulein," said Kurt as he bamfed in beside her, snatched the remote, then bamfed away again.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Yes!" Evan punched the air. "Score one for the Fuzz-man. Now maybe we'll get some decent programming."  
  
Kurt reappeared clinging upside down to the ceiling, not too far from the chandelier. He stood impossibly, pressing various buttons until a familiar theme music and voiceover came through the strategically placed speakers around the room.  
  
Evan slapped his forehead. "Or perhaps not."  
  
A chorus of dissent went up from the forced audience. "Kurt, no!" Scott said in his best 'I-am-the-leader-and-you-will-do-as-I-say' voice. "Not Star Trek!"  
  
"Wha-at?" Kurt replied, spreading his arms wide. "It's my favourite show. At least let me see what episode it is."  
  
"Whatever it is, you'll have already watched it, like, a bazillion times," Kitty sniped. "There's only so much Captain Kirk and Doctor Spock a person can take."  
  
"It's an endlessly watchable show, Kätzchen. And FYI, it's *Mr.* Spock, not Doctor."  
  
"Like, what*ever*. It may be timeless for you, Fuzzy, but the rest of us have, like, some semblance of taste."  
  
Kurt folded his arms and sat down, blue hair dangling above his head like a transmuted halo. "Well I'm not switching it," he said resolutely, "And you can't make me."  
  
"She can't," Jean allowed with a small smile, "But I can." Stretching out an arm to guide her telekinesis, she caught the remote neatly in one hand as it abruptly flew from Kurt's grasp and soared through the air from the ceiling.  
  
"Hey! No fair using your powers!"  
  
"You used yours on me," Rogue reminded him.  
  
"Yeah, but.... that was different."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Um.... I don't know. It just was."  
  
"Well, I say we let the new recruits choose what we watch," Jean said judiciously, and though there were assorted groans at her sage words, the others were forced to agree that letting the newbies have a shot would be better than tearing each other apart over it.  
  
Jamie, as the closest, was passed the remote. He stared down at it, and then up at his new teammates. "So.... what would everybody like to watch?"  
  
Sam just shrugged. "I'm easy."  
  
"I'll bet," said Tabby with a devious grin that turned his cheeks bright red.  
  
"I think the new episode of South Park's on," Rahne suggested, glancing at her watch.   
  
"Uh, I'm not allowed to watch stuff like that," Jamie replied, flushing slightly. "My Mom says there's bad stuff in it I'm too young to understand."  
  
"OK, scratch that one, then." Bobby made a motion like crossing out something one an invisible piece of paper with his hands and sighed. "How about we just channel-hop until we find something?"  
  
"That could work." Jamie dutifully started changing stations at breakneck speed so that everything was just an indistinguishable, if colourful, blur smeared across the screen.  
  
"Hey, whoa! Whoa!" Jubilee called out. "Back up there, junior. You're going too fast for anybody to see what's going on."  
  
"Oops." Jamie went back to the start of the manifold channels, and said sheepishly, "Sorry."  
  
Ray pointed. "How about that one? Looks good." The show in question featured a number of gaudily clad bikers performing impressive stunts over dirt-ridden mounds to a thrashing theme music that was all base and no tune.  
  
Amara clapped her hands over her ears. "Ugh, what a noise. How unseemly, writhing about in the dirt like that."  
  
Tabby raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't knock something if you ain't tried it, Princess." From her expression it was easy to tell that she referred to something quite different to the bikers onscreen, but Amara was either too naïve or too wrapped up in herself to notice it.  
  
"Whatever you might like getting up to, peasant, I prefer more refined pastimes. Is there any channel that shows classical music? I feel like relaxing. It's been a stressful day."  
  
Jubilee snorted. "I'll bet."  
  
Jamie went on flipping channels, until several voices called out at once when a familiar cartoon girl in short skirt, green jacket and wide-rimmed glasses appeared. Her face was expressionless, and when she spoke her voice never went above a monotone.  
  
"Stop!"  
  
Roberto squinted. "What *is* this?"  
  
"*This*," Rogue said triumphantly, "Is what Ah was trying to watch before blue-boy stole the remote."  
  
Kurt shrugged and grinned irreverently at her. "Hey, how was I to know? You never said."  
  
"That's all well and good," the solar-enhanced mutant cut in again, "But what *is* it? What's it called?"  
  
"Daria," Jubilee replied, giving up on the sofa and sliding off to sit cross-legged on the floor next to Rahne. "New ep, I think."  
  
"It is," Rogue informed her, perching on the arm of the couch to watch. "Just started, too, so will y'all just shut it for the next half hour. You can go back to killing each other after the credits."  
  
From high above them, Kurt grunted. "Danke schon for you overwhelming generosity, Fraulein."  
  
"Can it, fuzz-boy, afore Ah get to using your tail as a hood-ornament."  
  
"Shutting up."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Kitty stood outside the girls' bathroom tapping her foot, a towel slung over one arm and a faint scowl on her face. She sighed melodramatically and, checking her wristwatch, banged on the door with her fist.   
  
"Hurry up in there. Have you fallen in or something? There are people waiting to, like, use the bathroom already!"  
  
In truth there was only her, but Kitty felt that after thirty minutes of waiting (plus however much time prior to her arrival the someone in the bathroom had taken up) justified a little white lie. Blowing a lock of hair from her eyes she ground her teeth at the lack of response from within yet *again*.  
  
"Look, if you don't answer me then I'll come in anyway. You know I can."  
  
Still nothing, although there were enough bathroom-y type noises to ensure she knew that *someone* was in there. Someone very rude not to answer.  
  
"OK, I gave you fair warning." Kitty sucked in a lungful of air through her teeth and walked forward, muttering, "I hope you're decent, whoever you are."  
  
Her skin rippled slightly as she phased, disappearing through the thick oaken panelling with practised ease. She emerged on the other side with her trademark 'swoosh' sound and blinked when she realised the bathroom she'd entered appeared to be completely empty. There was nobody around, and as she went further in and peered about, her face puckered into a bewildered frown.   
  
The sink was full of water, and one of the taps dripped with a faint 'plip-plip-plip'. Kitty approached it perplexedly. It was scummy, with gobs of old grey foam floating about and crawling up the sides of the enamel, and it seemed that somebody had been shaving recently because there was an uncleaned razor filled with old black hairs lying on the side next to a soapy flannel.  
  
"Urgh," Kitty murmured, pulling a face. "Hello? Is anyone in here?"  
  
The frosted door to the shower cubicle slid open and a long tanned leg egressed, followed in short order by a very loud, very high-pitched scream. Kitty immediately blushed crimson and spun around, dropping her towel and shielding her eyes as Amara's incensed expression and nudity continued to reflect back at her in the mirror on the other wall.  
  
"Oh Jeez, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.... Oh hell! Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry...."  
  
"Is it common practise in this country to walk in on people whilst they're bathing? " There was the sound of crinkling fabric and wet feet slapping the floor tiles as the Princess grabbed for a towel and wrapped it huffily around herself. More scrabbling was heard as she did likewise with her hair, twisting it up into a turban and pinning it there with a hand.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," Kitty said again, heat radiating from her face like a furnace. "I thought that... since you'd been in here so long, you were.... Oh, jeez...."  
  
"I *happen* to take a pride in my appearance. Where I come from it is usual for one to spend a suitable amount of time bathing so as not to resemble a pigsty for the rest of the day," Amara replied snappily. More slapping of feet. Then, "You may turn around now if you wish."  
  
Kitty chanced a glance in the mirror first, just to make sure, and then swivelled around to face the simmering royal. Amara's face was a picture of indignation as she dripped water on the floor, and in an effort to claw back some semblance of dignity, Kitty grabbed at the first conversational topic that came to mind. "Where exactly *do* you come from? I don't mean to be nosy, but - "  
  
"You wouldn't have heard of it. I originate from the esteemed island of Nova Roma, and we don't encourage contact with the outside world as a general rule. I'm only here in this gods-forsaken place because my father insisted that, as future ruler, I be as well rounded as a modern ruler can be. Now, if you'd be so kind as to explain why you chose to just burst in without announcing yourself like that?"  
  
Kitty flushed. "Well, actually I *did* call in here. You just must not have heard me, what with the water running and all."  
  
Amara tossed her head, dislodging the turban a little. She fixed it quickly and dragged the purple beach sized towel further around her body, covering as much flesh as it would allow - which was quite a bit, considering. Amara had a petite frame, and the word 'elfin' was one of the first to spring to mind. Kitty gave the exotic girl an appraising look despite herself, and found the sight of striking dusky skin, smooth skin and a completely unblemished-from-acne face made her feel more than a little inadequate. Unconsciously she sucked in her own stomach and flashed her best apologetic smile.  
  
Amara narrowed her eyes. "Yes, well, be that as it may, I'm not finished yet, so you can leave now."  
  
Kitty's smile faltered a little, but to her credit she didn't snap back at the discourteous retort. Instead, she nodded and bent to pick up the towel she'd dropped. However, her efforts were slightly hindered when a shapely brown foot stepped on it and pinned it down just as her fingers touched the fabric.   
  
"You can leave *that* behind. Consider it compensation for my embarrassment."  
  
"*Your* embarrassment?" Kitty's eyes grew round. "Hey, I wasn't exactly too happy with the situation myself, y'know. That towel's mine, so I'll have it back now, if you don't mind." She grasped the fluffy material and gently phased it through the foot.  
  
Amara's expression turned strange, caught somewhere between a scowl and mask of consideration. After a few moments it opted for the former, and she glowered down at the other, crouching girl. Small sparks started to dance in her eyes, and her dark skin turned vaguely orange.   
  
Kitty, having heard many retellings of Amara's skirmish with Jubilee (including a rendition from Jubilee herself), recognised what could only be the signs of Amara's power, and straightened up quick sharpish. The Princess followed her with her eyes, but never made another move, which somehow was more intimidating than if she'd launched herself forward with full battle cry whilst wielding a Scream-esque knife replete with ghost mask.  
  
"I am the First Princess of Nova Roma. If I say you are to give me that towel, then you shall give me that towel," she growled, barely above a whisper. "Or suffer the consequences."  
  
Swallowing, Kitty squared her jaw. "Are you threatening me?"  
  
Amara said nothing, but her left hand began to glow. Kitty backed away poste-haste, not willing to take her chances with someone who, despite the relatively short time she'd spent at the Institute, had already gained a reputation for being both powerful, headstrong and desperately spoilt. If worst came to worst then Kitty knew she was able to phase through any firebolts and avoid injury at Amara's hands that way, but she hoped that the unsavoury consequences involving Ororo's clean-up operation of earlier, plus Rahne's accident would warn the Princess off causing further property or personal damage.   
  
Still, you could never tell....  
  
"Look, Princess, I can understand that maybe that's how it works in your country, but I hate to tell you that this is America, and in America we don't do stuff like that. It's called harassment."  
  
Still, Amara said nothing, and took a step forward. A few droplets of water started to sizzle on her skin, turning to hot steam as her colour lightened to faint yellow.  
  
Kitty swallowed. "Don't do anything stupid. Look, I'm leaving. Hey, if you take a pop at me then... then I'll...."  
  
"You'll what?"  
  
Kitty though for a moment. "I'll tell the Professor," she said triumphantly, knowing that saying that usually served to deflate any fights between the older members of the Institute. Certainly it seemed to take the wind out of Amara's sails a little.  
  
Not for long though. In a few seconds the princess was glowing afresh, though she stayed her ground and didn't make any further moves forward.   
  
"Get out," she gritted, and watched as Kitty gratefully did just that, taking the towel with her.  
  
The pony-tailed girl decided to forego opening the door, and instead left exactly the way she'd come in. It'd never felt so good to phase through something as it did when she was putting that something between her and the irate Princess. Still, she looked over her shoulder as Amara faded from view and was replaced by solid Oak, and so wasn't looking where she was going when she emerged into the corridor beyond.  
  
{CRUMP}  
  
"Like, *ow*!" Kitty hopped around on one foot, drawing her leg up to her chest and clutching her shin.   
  
Xavier looked back at her, brows creasing with concern. "I'm sorry, Kitty. I didn't see you there."  
  
Kitty bit back the, _Yeah, I noticed,_ her tongue was just itching to say, and settled for the more courteous, "Sorry, Professor. It was my fault. I was watching out for Miss Hoity-Toity in there instead of looking where I was going." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, before returning it to the sore spot where she'd walked into his wheelchair. Yowch, that was gonna leave a bruise.  
  
Xavier's expression switched from one of concern to puzzlement. "Miss Hoity-Toity?" he repeated.  
  
"Amara Whatshername. Princess girl."  
  
At this, the lines in his face smoothed a little. "Aquilla. Amara Aquilla."  
  
"Yeah, like, whatever. Princess Burn-a-Lot very nearly fried me in there; and all because I *accidentally* walked in on her taking a shower and then wouldn't give her my towel in compensation!" She brandished the offending item at him, and he leaned back in his chair to avoid being hit in the face.  
  
The lines promptly returned. "Ah, yes. I *have* been hearing some.... interesting stories about Miss Aquilla's conduct."  
  
Kitty snorted, blowing away strand of loose hair that had snuck from its restraints and into her eyes. "*That's* putting it lightly. I'm, like, totally amazed she hasn't already levelled the place by now. She's barely been here a day, and already she's trashed a room, injured two people and threatened no end of others. Plus, her attitude just generally stinks. You'd think we were all dirt, the way she talks. I though all royalty were supposed to be, like, refined and junk?"  
  
"Things aren't always the same in reality as they are in our imaginations, Kitty." Xavier said soothingly. "I would imagine the Queen of England has had her moments, too. Nobody's perfect. Things are just a little...." He spiralled a hand at the wrist, searching for the correct word, "Different, where Amara comes from. She may be having trouble adjusting."   
  
Kitty's expression told him exactly what she thought of *that* explanation, and Xavier briefly caught a surface thought she inadvertently projected.   
  
_Manners don't cost anything, even for a Princess._  
  
He sighed, and rubbed at his left temple as he was wont to do when stressed or lost in thought. Right now was probably the former. He'd known Amara would be a handful, especially after the audience with her father. King Gorahnzer was an arrogant and indulgent man, with enough ego to fill an ocean, and then some. He only wanted the best for his daughter - Xavier had learned that much from several thoughts unconsciously projected his way - but the King's demeanour was an altogether unpleasant experience for a telepath to encounter. Charles reasoned that it was foolish for him to have expected much different from his child, who seemed to have been raised with her father's likeness in mind. Queen Delanzi had died when Amara was too young to remember her, so it was only to be expected that the Princess be more spoilt than perhaps others of her station usually were.  
  
Sighing, Charles regarded the annoyed student stood before him. "I'll have a word with her about this sort of thing, shall I? See if we can't straighten something out."  
  
Kitty 'harrumphed', but seemed satisfied, maybe even mildly pleased with the offer. "Like, whatever. Just be sure to wear fireproof clothing when you do, huh?"   
  
Xavier allowed himself a small smile at her words. "I'll keep that in mind."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
{THUNK-CREAK-THUNK-CREAK-THUNK-CREAK-THUNK}  
  
{CRUMP}  
  
"Quit it!"  
  
Silence. Then, tentatively, {THUNK-CREAK-THUNK-CRE-}  
  
{CRUMP}  
  
"I said quit it! Jeez!" Tabby, perched on the side of her bed with legs dangling, threw herself backwards and lay spread-eagled, staring up at the ceiling. "I swear, if he tries it again...."   
  
Her room, she'd recently found, was directly underneath Jamie's. Furthermore, she'd also discovered that the little tyke hadn't learned his lesson with regards to bouncing on his bed, and was making enough noise to wake the dead, and keep one certain, getting-more-crotchety-by-the-minute blonde girl awake.  
  
Tabby strained to hear anything, and presently there was a muffled 'thump', and muted creaking that signified Jamie's finally going to bed to sleep. She listened for a few moments more, then sighed and rolled over onto her stomach, leaning half off the bed to grab at the random shoes she'd hurled skywards. They escaped her grasp, however, one having landed somewhere in the vicinity of the potted aspidistra in the corner, and the other ostensibly having vanished off the face of the earth entirely.   
  
She rolled back onto her spine and burrowed under the covers so recently vacated. They were still warm, and she revelled in the feeling of an actual goose-down quilt and feather pillows, as opposed to the scratchy synthetic ones she'd been so used to at home. There she'd had to worry about who'd had the handoffs before her, and whether they'd left any unpleasant.... Friends, behind. Just thinking about it made her want to itch, and she absently scratched at her elbow.  
  
Home.  
  
Jesus, why did she have to go ruin the moment thinking about *that* place?   
  
Grunting, she attempted to bury her face in her pillow, only to emerge a few seconds later, gasping. Irritably, she turned onto her back, then her side, then her other side, then onto her front again. Finally she kicked off the bedclothes completely, and, emitting what sounded like a growl, lowered her feet onto the floor.  
  
The carpet was deep pile, so she abandoned the idea of looking for slippers and instead made a beeline for where she'd left her housecoat hanging off the door. The back of her hand cracked the frame as she fumbled for it, and she let out a stream of curses that would've put even Ray to shame.  
  
A glance at the digital clock Xavier had so kindly provided told her in large red numbers that it was just past ten. Quite early for her to be going to bed, she realised; but the events of the day had drained her somewhat, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep right now.  
  
However, her memories and overactive brain wouldn't let her rest so easily, and she knew of only one truly effective way to calm herself down at times like these. Thus it was that the rumpled figure slipped from her room on cat-feet and padded down the hallway to where she remembered the smaller, almost unnoticeable staircase was.  
  
Sure enough, the unassuming door that could've passed for a closet or airing cupboard to those who didn't know what to look for, soon loomed up out of the gloom, and Tabby pulled open the door with nary a squeak, despite the ancient hinge.   
  
_Still got it._  
  
The stairs themselves were old and uncarpeted, but had been worn smooth and splinter-less by many sets of feet running up and down them over the years. Probably they were one of the last remnants from when this place had been a proper, working mansion, with servants and everything. A few leftover images of Gosford Park sprang to mind, and she smiled wryly as she hopped off the bottom step.   
  
_Now, to see if this leads where I think it does._  
  
At the foot of the stairs was a small, pitch dark alcove, which ended in another battered door that was in serious need of a lick of paint. Cautiously, lest there be anyone on the other side to hear her, Tabby tested the doorknob. It twisted slowly to the left, letting out a few orange shards of rust, but remaining mercifully silent. She thanked her lucky stars as it turned all the way without betraying her presence, and carefully pushed it open the tiniest crack. Pressing her face to the aperture, she smiled.  
  
_Bingo._  
  
She'd arrived just opposite the conservatory, and beyond the multitude of glass panes the night gleamed darkly in at her. Perfect for a little privacy. There was nobody about. Tabby slithered out of her hiding place and headed towards the door Kurt, on his tour of the mansion, had so benevolently told them was always left only on a latch in case of a fire.  
  
It was a simple matter to lift said latch and glide out; especially for someone who'd spent most of her pubescent life slipping away unnoticed. Getting out of the house back home was much more difficult compared to this place, since Mr. and Mrs. Smith always seemed to choose exactly the wrong spot for their endless arguments.   
  
Once outside, Tabby pattered through the grass, which was only vaguely cool thanks to the after-effects of a particularly warm day. She clung to the deepest recesses of shadow out of habit, and hid in the blackest gloom she could find; which just so happened to be in the lee of the building.   
  
She scouted one last time for people before moving again, then groped about in the deep pocket of her dressing gown for the packet of cigarettes, hidden therein in case of just such an emergency. Drawing the box out, she fumbled with one hand to open it, the other being preoccupied searching for a lighter.  
  
_Damnit, work!_ she thought savagely, as soon as both white stick and lighter were in attendance. She pressed her lips together over the end of the cigarette and clicked ceaselessly at the small metallic box, being rewarded with only a damp spark that couldn't have fired a flatulent duck's backside. _Aw, *hell*!_ Tabby shook the lighter, as if in the hope that it would suddenly start to work if vigorously thwacked about. Like hitting a TV to smooth out the picture when it went fuzzy.  
  
Needless to say, it didn't work.  
  
_Aw, jeez._ She grabbled around, checking she hadn't brought the spare along too. She knew she hadn't, but it made her feel better to look for it anyway. Just like she knew that cough sweets do frankly nothing, but make you feel like you're actually doing something to combat an illness, instead of just sitting back and letting it make you sick.  
  
"Those things are bad for you, y'know."  
  
The husky voice startled her, and she whipped round, unconsciously yanking the folds of her robe closed. "Who's there? Come out before I fry ya!"  
  
A lanky figure peeled itself off the wall a few feet away and started walking towards her. Each step was a calculated, languid movement, like he was striding through water, and as he drew closer, Tabby could make out the intermittent glowing cherry of a lit cigarette and a mass of spiky quills atop his head. Her eyes narrowed in recognition, and she folded her arms in a distinct 'and-what-the-hell-do-*you*-want?' stance.  
  
"Is that any way to talk to your new teammate?" drawled the figure, taking a long drag and puffing expert little smoke rings into the air.  
  
It was all Tabby could do not to snarl. Sheesh, she'd been denied for all of two minutes and already she was having nicotine withdrawal symptoms. "You shouldn't sneak up on a person like that," she hissed instead. "Coulda given me a frikkin' heart attack!"  
  
Ray laughed. "Got problems?" He nodded at the lighter.  
  
"What's it to you?"  
  
He shrugged. "You're not doing it right. Here, let me have it." He reached forward, but Tabby yanked her hand away. Had she been a cat, like her namesake, she would've laid her ears flat and hissed.  
  
Ray paused, eyes searching what part of her face he could see in the gloom. His own cigarette dangled slackly from his mouth, smouldering merrily in the cool air. "Y'know, you look like shit without your make-up on."  
  
"Bite me."  
  
"You wish." He took another long drag and removed the stick long enough to flick excess ash from the end. Tabby watched as it fluttered to the ground, red extinguishing as it went until it was no more than grey dust.  
  
"Want one?" He produced a half-empty packet of Silk Cut. Evidently the influx of nicotine was making him extra generous. Either that or he was taunting her. She didn't know him well enough to decide which, so instead she just grumbled in reply.  
  
"Got some already. Just can't *do* anything with 'em."  
  
"Like I said, you're working the lighter wrong - "  
  
"Can it, spike-boy." She gestured contemptuously at his hair. "I've been smoking longer than I can remember, and probably longer than you have. I *think* I know how to work a lighter properly by now."  
  
"So how come you ain't lit up yet, then?"  
  
"Maybe I don't wanna."  
  
Ray arched an eyebrow at that. "So why you out here then?"  
  
Tabby sniffed and tilted her head back, gaze lingering on the bluish-black sky. "Maybe I'm stargazing."  
  
He snorted. "Yeah, right." Quicker than she could stop him, he dived for the lighter and snapped it up out of her hand. Tabby cried out, but fell immediately silent when, with a quick flick of his wrist, Ray managed to create a small, amethyst flame that danced mockingly in front of her eyes. "Here." He thrust it out to her in one hand like he really didn't care whether she took it or not.  
  
Trying not to show her eagerness, Tabby placed her cigarette between her lips and bent to light the end. Once burning, she inhaled and let out a relieved sigh that sent tendrils of mist curling up into the atmosphere. In no time at all she'd hotboxed[15] it and was reaching for another.  
  
"Jeez, you been going cold turkey or something?" Ray handed her the still-lit lighter and returned to his own smoking, watching as she adroitly lit up. Tabby grunted at him non-comittally, straightening and taking her time so that she could properly savour this one.   
  
They stood in silence for a while, neither meeting the other's eyes, and puffing taciturnly away at their respective cigarettes. It was a quiet night out, and the only movement came from a slight breeze that ruffled the trees planted in neat lines around the edge of the Institute, which, in turn, cast eerie shadows all around them. Tiny sprites danced about, slipping from one patch of darkness to the next, and only reeling back when they chanced upon the red glow of burning paper.  
  
Finally Tabby spoke. "Thanks," she said, albeit grudgingly, and in a reluctant monotone.  
  
Ray didn't answer for a moment; then asked, "So what drove you out here, anyway?"  
  
She laughed, as if he'd asked a stupid question. "You really gotta ask? Cushy as this place is, I doubt they're big on these things." She held up the cigarette and waved it around, leaving a smoky trail. "That Kitty girl's a vegetarian, and that guy Scott's a fitness freak. Honestly, you'd think it was against the law to have a good old fashioned fag with these guys around."  
  
"Could've smoked it out your bedroom window."   
  
"With that Logan guy and his nose around?"  
  
"I suppose." Ray inhaled and blew out a half-hearted ring.   
  
They fell silent again for a few minutes, until Tabby held out her hand and abruptly perused the singed cigarette clasped between her fingers like a pen. There were tiny indentations in her flesh either side whether probably thousands had sat before, smoked out of a window or in an alleyway because Mrs. Smith, despite her own faults, couldn't bear to think of her only child taking up any such bad habits as she herself indulged in.  
  
"Little cancer sticks," Tabby muttered, then placed it back between her lips, fully aware of the irony. "I should give them up, really."  
  
Ray looked up. "But?" he prompted.  
  
She let out a lungful of cynical, grey air. "But sometimes I fell like these are the only things keeping me sane."  
  
He made a strange noise in the back of his throat, like a choked sheep trying to bleat. "Know how that feels."  
  
Tabby shook her head. "Believe me, you have no idea."  
  
"Don't I?" The vehemence in his tone startled her a little, and when she glanced sidelong she saw that his face had creased into a curious mask of regret, mixed with something akin to melancholy. The expression was so alien to his usually scowling features that she did a rapid double take, and then stared back down at her cigarette. Salubrious, they may not be, but these things certainly seemed to have a way of making people open up a bit.  
  
"I don't know," she said at last, keeping her pitch conversational. "Do you?"  
  
Ray said nothing for a while, and then tapped at the end again, sending cinders flickering off into the grass. "Maybe not the same way you do; but yeah. I know."  
  
"Care to enlighten me?"  
  
He shook his head. "You don't wanna know. Really."  
  
"How do you know what I do and don't wanna know about?"  
  
"Because nobody ever does. They just look away and pretend you ain't there. Like those beggars you see in the streets, that people walk past at Christmas time? Like them. They don't care, so why should I? I smoke these things because they don't wanna see people like me. Like us."  
  
Tabby lowered her eyes. "Mutants."  
  
"Perhaps," he replied, pensively. "Perhaps not." He inhaled again. "I get the feeling we're the kind of people folk just brush over, whether we're mutant or not."  
  
"Perhaps," Tabby echoed, and looked solidly at the ground. After a while, she said, "Our neighbours used to call us scum. Me, my Dad, my Mom. Guess we we're just that kind of family; always fighting, yelling at each other. The old woman in the apartment above ours once called the police 'cause my Dad was smashing things. Is," nervously, she licked her lips, "Is your family like that?"  
  
Ray gave a barking laugh that lasted only a second. "Naw. People around where I used to live think ours was the perfect family. Nice house, nice area, nice garden, perfect wife, perfect husband...." He trailed off.  
  
"Not-so-perfect son?" Tabby supplied. Ray nodded and took another swift drag on his cigarette.  
  
"Something like that. I was never good enough to fit in with their 'perfect' image, even before... y'know." She bobbed her head. "Being a mutant just made me stand out more like a sore thumb than before."  
  
"So you left."  
  
He choked a little, clouds of smoke that had gone down the wrong tube belching out through his nose. "What? How do you - "  
  
"It happened a lot round our way. Kids didn't fit in, so they vamoosed. I learned how to tell the symptoms, even if I was too chicken to do it myself." _That, and I didn't wanna leave Mom alone with *him*,_ she added mentally, unwilling to reveal *that* particular titbit to anyone just yet.  
  
Ray lapsed into quiescence. Then, abruptly, he sucked in the last remaining goodness from his cigarette and dumped the stub on the floor. His boot rose as if to stamp it out, then, thinking better of leaving such compromising evidence around, he picked it up again and crushed it in his fist. He didn't even flinch as it touched his skin, instead brushing past Tabby and disappearing into the gloom without so much as a 'goodnight'. It seemed that the conversation had become a tad too personal for young Master Crisp.  
  
Tabby blinked after him, her own cigarette only half burned. She watched as he vanished, adopted and enveloped by shadows until he was almost one himself, flitting along the side of the imposing building to wherever and however he'd managed to sneak out here in the first place. Soon he was lost from view, and she was left to lean back against the wall and finish the iota of pleasure smoking granted to her alone, and contemplate the odd conversation she'd just had.  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
"Amara, could I have a word?"  
  
Amara stopped in her tracks and ground her teeth. Yet when she turned to face Xavier she already had a smile fixed in place, and flashed her whiter-than-white teeth at him in such a manner as had made her father crumble to her demands every time she used it.  
  
"Yes, Professor?" she said sweetly.   
  
"Amara." Xavier wheeled up and halted his chair in the middle of the hallway and nodded a greeting. His expression seemed troubled, and he looked about the hallway. "Um, would you prefer it if we talked somewhere more.... private? The subject is of a rather delicate nature, and I'd hate to embarrass you on your first day here."  
  
The princess tossed her hair in reply. "Whatever you need to say to me can be spoken out here. Now please, say your piece so that I may go to bed."  
  
Xavier blinked at her inherent lack of respect, even for him. True, she hadn't known him very long, but still. Inwardly, he sighed. This was going to be more difficult then even he'd thought it would be. "Very well then. Amara, it's come to my attention that you've been rather - how shall I say it?- disruptive today. Damaging property, threatening and injuring students; I'm afraid this cannot go on."  
  
To his great surprise, she nodded. "You are correct, Professor. It can't."  
  
"Oh. I'm, er, so glad you see things that way."  
  
"That's why you must have a serious talk with everyone else living on these premises. Their behaviour simply *can't* be tolerated."  
  
"Excuse me?" Xavier frowned, wondering if he'd heard her correctly.  
  
Amara went on, ostensibly not having heard him. "They have absolutely no respect for royalty. They backchat, order me around, and treat me as if I were some mere...commoner, like themselves. It's simply insupportable, and must be put a stop to as soon as possible." She let out a breath through her nostrils, emphasising her words.  
  
Charles steepled his hands, resisting the need to massage his left temple. "I...think you misunderstand my meaning, Amara. You see, there have been several complaints already about your conduct - both from students and staff."  
  
"*My* conduct?" She seemed surprised, and actually reeled backwards at the news.  
  
"Yes. People have, unfortunately, been coming to me all day, complaining about your attitude, and some of you rather major misdemeanours. I'm not sure if I made myself completely clear in my audience with your father, but it's a strict rule of this school that we don't use our powers on each other, or to cause wanton destruction. You, however, seem to have been engaged in both. I apologise if I wasn't - "  
  
"And so you should!" Amara's voice had risen a pitch and her eyes flashed dangerously. "How dare you speak to me in such a disrespectful manner. I demand an apology, this instant."  
  
Now, Charles Xavier was a kind soul, and his patience was legendary the world over. He was famous as a great mediator, and several times it had been said that, had he not decided to start up his school, then he would've made an excellent diplomat.  
  
However, confronted by this one teenage girl, even he was starting to feel the edges of his renowned patience begin to fray. He fixed her with a quiet stare, and said in a soft voice, "Amara, I think we need to set down a few ground rules. While you're staying here in America you shall be viewed, and therefore treated, as would any other person. Your title, while impressive, has little influence outside of Nova Roma, and I think that's something you should keep in mind when dealing with people from now on. Your father gave me strict instructions that you should be taught how to properly control and use your mutant abilities. He did *not* stipulate that my staff, your fellow pupils, or I should be expected to fawn over you. We are not your servants, nor inferiors, and it would be wise for you to remember that."  
  
Amara was positively seething. "This is outrageous," she exclaimed.  
  
"No, this is how it is to be. Now, though serious, I'm willing to forget your antics of today if you in turn are willing to make a fresh start here, since they may have been partially my fault for not explaining things to you earlier. Try to be a little more civil to your teammates, and perhaps they won't be quite so rude to you. The same with faculty members. They're people, and deserve that much respect."  
  
"They're peasants," she gritted, and her skin began to glow.  
  
"Amara, I won't have wanton uses of power like that," Xavier said calmly. "If you don't think you can adhere to our rules, and truly dislike the prospect of living here then I'm sure we can arrange for you to go home."  
  
Home. Briefly, Amara considered the option. Nova Roma was a peaceful place, where people knew their places and stuck to them diligently. The scenery was bright and colourful, rather than this drab excuse for greenery and architecture she'd seen in America so far. For an instant she was inches away from saying yes, and demanding to be put on the first flight home.  
  
However, just as the command reached her lips she thought of her father; of how disappointed he'd be if she came home so soon. He'd been so very proud when she agreed to leave their tiny island and venture out into the great world beyond. No Nova Roman had left their homeland for decades, and the fact that she was a mutant only served to bolster his pride, rather than diminish it. Having intrinsic belief in a polytheism gave the people of Nova Roma perhaps more acceptance of the strange and wonderful than the rest of the world, and their princess being a mutant was common knowledge amongst the populace.  
  
Whatever anyone thought, Amara loved her father. She knew he'd been hoping for a son as an heir, and wanted to make him proud and glad to have had her instead any way that she could. The fleeting image of his face crossed her mind, and in that second she tightened her lips and tossed her shiny black hair back to stare at the waiting features of the Professor.  
  
"No, I'll stay," she said decisively. Xavier opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "I'll adhere to your rules, Professor Xavier, but be warned. I still don't like them. Don't expect me to like my.... 'teammates', either. They are, and shall always be peasants in my eyes, and no matter how long I spend in this country, I doubt that will ever change." With that she spun on her heel and marched off down the hall in a flurry of glossy hair and silken dressing gown.  
  
Xavier watched her go, thinly veiled confusion playing across his face. Heaving a long breath, he sighed and turned his wheelchair around.   
  
Something told him, this was going to be a very long semester.  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Jean looked up as Amara banged into their - for the moment - shared bedroom. The princess was muttering something under her breath, and from the few projected thoughts she received before she had time to put her shields up, the telepath sensed that it had something to do with 'mindless peasants', which could have meant anybody within about a hundred miles where Amara was concerned.   
  
Sucking a soothing breath in and making sure her own thoughts remained neutral, so as not to spark off her telekinesis by accident, Jean smiled beatifically at the younger girl. She still had the hairbrush her mother had given her last birthday sitting beside her on the bed, and half of her fiery mane was tamed into a thick braid, pinned between her hands.   
  
Amara paused long enough to fix her with a critical stare. Then, with a flick of her own dark tresses, pointedly ignored the attempts at friendliness to kick off her bejewelled sandals, which she ostensibly wore in place of slippers.  
  
Jean watched with minor annoyance as Amara sank down onto the mattress they'd managed to salvage from one of the destroyed rooms. It wasn't the most comfortable of beds, but given the circumstances, it was a lot better than the alternative. Amara, however, didn't agree; as evidenced by the single thought that managed to get past Jean's mental defences and spear her psyche like a harpoon.  
  
_Honestly, this place is hardly fit for *pigs*, let alone royalty!_  
  
_And this is why we practise fortifying our defences every day,_ Jean thought wryly, musing to herself that she was going to need a lot more aspirin until these new guys learned to better protect their projections - inadvertent or not. *Especially* if repairs on Amara's room were going to take as long as she suspected they would.  
  
Sighing, Jean finished braiding her hair and wrapped the end in a tight scrunchie. Throwing the red rope over her shoulder, she considered picking her way across to the dresser to replace the brush.   
  
_Nah, not worth it._   
  
Aided conspicuously by her telekinesis, the brush levitated its way over by itself, leaving her free to climb under the covers and mentally flip the light-switch off once all appendages were safely tucked beneath the blankets.  
  
After a few minutes of getting comfortable, Jean lay on her back and contemplated what she could see of the ceiling. Her curtains were drawn, as per usual, but a certain amount of light invariably found its way through, and she traced the snaky lines with her eyes in an effort to court sleep. Counting sheep had never worked for her, and though not a total insomniac, it was renowned about the entire Institute that she sometimes had problems sleeping, for no other reason than her brain was always too active to rest straight away.  
  
_Chalk that one up as yet *another* bad side to a mind-enhancing mutation._  
  
Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of cloth against cloth as she moved restlessly around, trying to get comfortable. It was almost completely still - even the dust motes were more passive than normal. Jean sighed, knowing that utter taciturnity did nothing to help her nod off. If anything, it did the exact opposite, giving her mind more time and space to consider the events of the day and ramifications thereof.  
  
_You know your problem, Grey?_ she chastised herself. _You overthink things *way* too much._  
  
Thus, it was a surprise when the tranquillity was abruptly shattered by the sound of a throat being cleared, followed by a husky voice from somewhere in the vicinity of the floor.  
  
"That's a, er, neat power you have," Amara ventured.  
  
Jean blinked, wondering what the princess was up to. "Thanks," she said guardedly.  
  
"It must prove very useful."  
  
"It has its moments. I'm sure your abilities are handy too."  
  
"If you count being able to turn into a living inferno and fry people to a crisp 'handy', then yes, they are."  
  
_Ouch. 'How to kill a conversation, in three easy steps', by Amara Aquilla._ Jean gave the equivalent of a mental sigh and speculated on what Amara's angle was this time. She's known the other girl less than twenty-four hours, and already she had something akin to a deep-seated suspicion of her and her temper.  
  
Amara didn't say anything for a second, and when she did, her tone was tentative, like she didn't quite know what she was doing. "I'm... I'm sorry. For what happened today, I mean."  
  
Jean's surprise was almost palpable. "Oh. Uh, thanks. I think. But it's not really me you should be apologising to. I was only on clean-up and medical detail."  
  
"I suppose, but... well, thank you for sharing your chambers with me on such short notice. I appreciate it." The words were strained, as if she was having to force them out, and the sensation of great discipline that rolled towards Jean in waves signified the tremendous effort it was taking the princess to goad herself into repentance.  
  
Deciding to make the task a little easier for the spoilt royal, Jean smiled up into the darkness and said, "It's OK. Nice having a little company, actually. Just don't go blowing up the furniture, huh? I don't know where they'd put us next time."  
  
"I'm sure I don't know," said Amara, only half-catching the joke. Then, out of the blue, she asked ingenuously, "Does everybody here hate me?"  
  
"What?" Jean fumbled for a moment. "No. No, they don't. Whatever gave you that idea?"  
  
"Just a hunch.." Amara's tone was rueful, and despite herself, Jean felt a slight tug inside her chest.  
  
_Damn empathy. Makes you a pushover, Grey._ "Nobody hates you, Amara. Believe me. They just have a little trouble accepting some of your behaviour. Perhaps if you apologised to them - "  
  
"I've already had this lecture off Professor Xavier." The change in her voice was swift, and Jean mentally fell back with a bump at the snap. "I don't need it from you as well."  
  
_Well, pardon me for breathing._ "Sorry, I was only trying to - "  
  
"I know." A pause. Then she spoke again, a little less savagely. "I know, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not used to being told what to do. I don't take orders easily. More used to giving them."  
  
_I'll bet._  
  
Another pregnant pause. This time, Jean was beginning to wonder whether Amara had fallen asleep when the other girl spoke again.   
  
"I'll... I'll keep in mind about saying sorry to people in the morning. But I'm making no promises, mind, so don't expect anything you might not get."  
  
"I won't," Jean said with a small smile. She turned over, punching her pillow to make it fluff under her cheek. "Amara?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"*I'm* glad you're here."  
  
Silence. Then, "Thank you." Amara's voice was genuinely grateful, in a way it hadn't been all day.  
  
Jean grinned. "S'alright. Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
"Inferno do caralho!"  
  
"Now, I'm no expert in foreign languages, but that sounded unpleasant."  
  
Roberto, startled by the voice that hadn't been there a minute ago, jerked upwards and cracked his head on the underside of the bed frame. Cursing loudly, he extracted himself from where he was half-crawled under the four-poster and clutched at the crown of his skull, glaring at the figure lounging nonchalantly against the doorframe of his room.   
  
Ray smirked back at him, arms folded with all his weight resting on one leg.   
  
"What do you want?" Roberto demanded irritably, rubbing at some point submerged in his hair.  
  
Ray shrugged. "You left the door open," he said, avoiding the question. "So what's it mean?"  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"That thing you said just now. What's it mean in English?"  
  
Roberto narrowed his eyes, annoyed at being disturbed. "Why do you wanna know?"  
  
Ray held up his hands, palm outward. "Hey, I was just trying to make conversation."  
  
The darker boy grunted, and said grudgingly, "Loosely translated, it means 'fucking hell'."  
  
Ray nodded, a look of satisfaction crossing his face. "Thought it might be," he said, then rearranged himself against the frame. "So why the expletive? You don't strike me as the sweary type."  
  
"Hey, you're not the only one allowed to cuss around here, y'know." Roberto pulled himself up and rocked back onto his knees, surveying the other boy critically. By his estimate, he and Ray weren't that far removed from each other age-wise, and he was in no mood to be patronized by somebody barely his equal in years right now.  
  
"True," Ray allowed, "But I always cuss for a reason. I think you'll find that most folk do. So what's yours?"  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"Switching to English now, are we? I suppose it's good to branch out every now and again. Gets stale always using the same old material, huh?"  
  
Roberto sighed, fingers itching to clench into fists and punch something. As a rule, he was usually good at keeping his temper, but right now he was having distinct problems. Ray's irksome presence wasn't helping, either. It was an intrinsic part of his power that Roberto often had too much energy, and becoming annoyed when he was particularly bloated with it was never a good thing, as the wall of his house back home had discovered after a exceptionally vicious argument with one of his brothers.  
  
"Look, Ray," he grated, "I don't know what you want, and I don't much care either. I'd appreciate it if you'd just leave me alone. Right now isn't a very good time for me - "  
  
"Why?"  
  
The urge to hit something increased. "I don't have to explain myself to you."  
  
Ray seemed unperturbed at the other boy's barely repressed anger, which somehow managed to make Roberto even more exasperated. "I know you don't," he said casually. "So what have you lost, anyway?"  
  
Roberto's eyes widened, and he made a choking noise in the back of his throat. "How did *you* know I'd lost something?"  
  
"I didn't. You just told me." Ray smirked gallingly. "Besides, when else would you ever stick your head under the bed with your ass in the air whilst wearing your pyjamas, except for when you're looking for something. Nice Mickey Mouse jammies, by the way."   
  
Roberto blushed. The pyjamas had been a present from his aunt as a going-away gift, and were a constant sticking point between he and his mother. She thought they looked, quote 'cute'. He thought they were ridiculous. Yet she's managed to prise a promise out of him to wear them anyway, and Roberto was nothing if not loyal to his mother's wishes - although God help anyone who dared to call him a Mummy's boy.  
  
He had numerous other such gifts stashed away in his new room; most of them useless, it has to be said. A lot of his relations had insisted on giving him good-luck charms, and there was a veritable menagerie of whittled animals gracing his shelf, thus relegating any actually books to a pile on the floor. It was one of the drawbacks to living in an overly large family unit, where even your great-great-great-great-grandmother's godson's cousins' daughter by his second marriage, once removed is a close family member. Personally, he had seven brothers at home, and three sisters, all of them rather tiresome at the best of times.  
  
Ray, however, was managing to out-annoy them without even trying.   
  
"I have not," Roberto gritted slowly, emphasising each word individually, "Lost anything."  
  
"Sure you have," Ray replied, and gestured at the mess where he'd obviously been sorting through things in his search.. "So what is it? Must be pretty important for you to - "  
  
"Look, will you just leave me alone?" Roberto snapped, forgoing niceties in an effort to remove this infuriating person from his room.   
  
"Why would I wanna do that?"  
  
"Do what?"   
  
Roberto inwardly groaned as a small, feminine face framed by damp brown hair appeared at the door.   
  
Ray swivelled his head. "Robbie here's lost something."  
  
Kitty peered past him, and Roberto was caught between whether to cover the offensive Mickey Mouse face gracing the front of his pyjama top, or pound Ray's kidneys for calling him 'Robbie'.  
  
It was obvious that Kitty had just emerged from the shower. The towel around her neck as well as her wet hair was a dead giveaway, and she rubbed reflexively at her ear with the fabric whilst talking. "What've you lost? Would you like a hand looking for it? I sometimes find that, like, an extra pair of eyes helps. Y'know, fresh perspective and all?"  
  
She seemed so sincere and eager to help that Roberto found himself unable to muster the same kind of impatience toward her as had easily slotted into place when confronted with Ray, despite the fact that both of them had asked him the same question. In fact, Kitty even managed to elicit an answer where Ray had not.  
  
Roberto fixed his gaze on the carpet and mumbled indistinctly, "Um urso do teddy[16]."  
  
"Excuse me?" Kitty blinked, not fully comprehending what he'd said. She cocked her head to one side in such a manner as could make Lance melt into mush in an instant. However, with his eyes averted, the effect was totally lost on Roberto, and he said nothing more.  
  
Ray, however, quirked his lips into a knowing smiled, and said loudly, "I didn't understand all of it, but the word 'teddy' was definitely in there." The smirk widened, and he adopted a denigrating tone. "Aw, whassamatter Robbie? Lost your stuffed toy?"  
  
Roberto glared, and in the back of his mind he wondered how long it would take beating Ray's kidney's to make him squeal.   
  
_Not long if I use my powers, I'll bet._  
  
Kitty tutted scornfully at Ray, and swatted at him with the back of one hand. "Quit it, Ray, or I'll, like, tell the Professor you snuck out to have a smoke."  
  
Ray flinched, but squared his jaw at her. In turn, Kitty rolled her eyes at the unspoken challenge and impatiently tapped her foot. "Oh come on, why else would you be up and dressed this late? Plus, you, like, totally stink, and you can see the cigarette packet bulging in your shirt pocket." She rapped with her knuckles at the squarish lump Roberto had thought was just a peculiarity of the attire, and was rewarded with a hollow sound.  
  
Ray clamped his hand over the offending pocket, grumbled something about having to be defended by girls, and stomped away, presumably to his room.  
  
Dusting off her hands, Kitty returned her attention to the task at hand, and let herself into Roberto's room without so much as a by-your-leave. Yet somehow, after removing Ray from the equation, Roberto found himself unable to get angry with her.  
  
"So," she said, all business, "Where did you, like, see it last?"  
  
He gestured flaccidly towards one of the boxes, specifically the foremost, which had had one side torn off. Kitty looked at it, then at him.   
  
"You know, getting angry never helped anything."  
  
He blushed, shrugged, and rose to drag the container over. Together they rummaged through each of the four boxes, dresser drawers, and then moved onto the closet. They even checked around the sheet of plywood Logan had put up to cover the hole in the wall Roberto's power blip had, but the mysterious teddy bear remained unfound.  
  
Eventually Kitty sat back, balancing on her heels and brushing a lock of hair from her face. "This bear could, like, totally win a game of hide and seek," she announced.  
  
Roberto paused in what he was doing to look at her. "Don't you think it's babyish?" he suddenly blurted, then looked embarrassed as she stared incredulously at him. "Getting so worked up over a cuddly toy, I mean."  
  
"Hell no." Kitty shook her head vehemently and frowned at him. "If I ever lost my stuffed dragon, I'd be just as upset. Maybe even more so. Same with Kurt and Schmerzmann.[17]"  
  
"Schmerzmann?"  
  
She waved a careless hand. "It's, like, a little knitted blue elf. Looks just like him. His Mom made it for him when he was small. She even created, like, whole sets of matching wardrobes for the pair of them. It's, like, one of the most precious things Kurt owns. Same with all the other gifts his family gave him before he came here."  
  
Roberto nodded sagely. "Meu urso do teddy.... era um presente.[18]"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Oh, sorry. My bear, he was a present too. My grandmother gave him to me not long before she died last year. In fact," his expression turned wistful, "That was the last time I ever saw her."  
  
"Jeez, no wonder you're so upset about, like, losing it." Kitty blinked, then hastily corrected herself. "The bear, I mean."  
  
He bobbed his head again, only half-listening and so not catching her slip-of-the-tongue. "Eu não posso dormir sem ele[19]," he said softly, staring at the floor but seeing the old wrinkled face of his grandmother beaming back at him instead. He gave a small sad smile.  
  
Kitty coughed to get his attention. "Y'know, you really gotta teach us Portuguese sometime," she said, winking.  
  
He looked up, startled, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was a million miles away just then. I said, uh... well, it's kinda difficult for me to sleep without it. Little piece of home, y'know?" His cheeks flushed for the second time in as many minutes.  
  
"Uh-huh. So that means you must've had it last night, then," she said, ignoring his discomfiture and referring to the fact that he'd arrived yesterday and already spent a night in the Institute.  
  
"Yeah, I just don't remember what I did with it this morning when I woke up, is all. Which means it could be anywhere." Roberto indicated around at the messy room. "I'm not the, ah, tidiest of people."  
  
"I'd noticed," she replied, not unkindly. Getting to her feet, she went to check behind the collection of wooden creatures on the dresser. That is, until her interest was arrested by the creations themselves. "These are nice," she commented.  
  
"My uncle and cousins made them for me. They're supposed to bring good luck," Roberto explained, going to stand by her. Kitty picked up a small, intricately carved tiger and studied it, distracted for a moment from their teddy-quest.  
  
"They're beautiful. So detailed. Is your uncle a carpenter?"  
  
"Amongst other things. He's kind of a jack-of-all-trades." Roberto plucked a tiny whittled rabbit from the back of the crowd and showed it to her. "My youngest cousin made this one. She's only seven, although she keeps insisting that she's seven and a *half*, of course."  
  
"Of course," said Kitty, smiling. "She's a very talented young lady. What's her name?"  
  
"Patchouli. She's also kinda morbid. Look. If you turn it to the light, its eyes glow." He held it up to the light on the ceiling, and the small animal's carved out eyes did indeed seem to glow bright yellow, as did the space where it's mouth was.  
  
Kitty squinted a little closer. "Hey, are those *fangs*?"  
  
"Uh-huh. I told you she was morbid. She always said I should call this little guy 'Bunnicula', the vampire bunny.[20]"  
  
Kitty laughed, and then stopped abruptly. So abruptly that Roberto looked at her in surprise. She pointed towards the top of the four-poster bed where the length of heavy fabric stretched between each of the struts. Following her gaze, Roberto instantly saw what she's spotted and gave a very undignified whoop.  
  
"Ferdy!" he cried, and scrabbled to grab down the brown, vaguely cylindrical, furry leg jutting over the side of the canopy. "There you are!"  
  
"Ferdy?"  
  
"Short for 'Fernando'." Roberto brandished the bear triumphantly, a wide grin splitting his face. "I guess I must've tossed him there was my alarm went off this morning. Sorry old pal."   
  
Ferdy was rather a tattered thing, with bald patches in several places and only one amber glass eye in his battered old head. But it was clear that he was also a very loved toy; made especially prominent by the groove under his neck where a sleeping arm was oft wont to rest at night.   
  
"He's lovely," Kitty said, and then covered a yawn with her hand. "Whoops, excuse me. Sorry. I guess I'll be off then. Beauty sleep and all." She suppressed another yawn, and headed for the door.  
  
"Wait," cried Roberto, hopping off the bed. Kitty halted briefly, and watched as he tenderly deposited Ferdy atop his pillows, then sprinted across the room to the whittled menagerie. He paused a moment, eyes roving amongst them, and then plucked one out and hurried to her side.  
  
Kitty blinked in surprise as he pressed whatever it was into her hand and closed her fingers tightly around it, saying, "Just to say thank you. For helping my, I mean. And for not making fun."  
  
"Uh, thanks," she said, and stepped back to let him close the door. "Goodnight Roberto."  
  
"Goodnight, meu amiga."  
  
_OK, I *think* that meant 'my friend'. Ach, looks like I'm gonna hafta buy a Portuguese dictionary to, like, go with my German one now._  
  
It wasn't until the door had clicked shut, and she was halfway down the hall that Kitty actually opened her hand. Immediately she did, she smiled down at the tiny wooden kitten staring endearingly up at her from the centre of her palm. It was barely a few centimetres wide, and not much taller, and sat with its front paw raised and an unquestionably adorable look on its cute little face.  
  
Aside from the carefully carved fangs, of course.  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Rogue looked up as her roommate entered. The light from the hallway stung her eyes, and she immediately shielded them with one hand, muttering, "Jeez, Kitty, close the damn door!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
The light vanished as Kitty did just that, and Rogue was just emerging from behind her palm when Kitty's bedside lamp flipped on, blinding her darkness-adapted eyes once again.  
  
"Yah! *Kitty*!"   
  
"Like, sorry," said the younger girl, with no hint of apology this time. "I won't be a second. I'm just putting something away."  
  
Rogue waited for a few seconds, listening to the array of curious noises issuing from somewhere in the vicinity of the closet. Finally, unable to contain her inherent curiosity - read; nosiness - any longer, she risked unsqueezing her lids, and blinked profusely at the brilliance that assaulted her as a result, then again in bewilderment at what she saw.  
  
Kitty stood balanced on a chair on the other side of the room, reaching up to place something diminutive and tan on the small jutting piece of plaster where once had rested a light fixture before the central light had been installed into the centre of the ceiling. The wannabe-shelf was barely large enough to fit anything but an upended matchbox, and Rogue immediately fell to wondering what exactly Kitty had found to put up there.  
  
"Wazzat?" she asked blearily, sleep she'd been courting only a few minutes ago fogging her brain and slurring her tongue a little.   
  
Kitty wobbled, and pressed a hand flat against the wall for support. "Whoops. Sorry, what did you say, Rogue?"  
  
"What've you got there that just couldn't wait 'til mornin'?"  
  
Whatever it was apparently now seemed to be in the position required, for Kitty placed her hands against her hips and nodded in a satisfied manner. She swivelled her neck to look at Rogue, and a contemplative look crossed her features for a second.  
  
"This thing?" she said, then smiled. "Kitticula."  
  
Rogue watched, perplexed as Kitty proceeded to hop down from her perch, replace the chair under their desk and shuck her housecoat. The Goth didn't even say anything when she clambered into bed and switched the lamp off, nor even when the sounds of snuggling under the blankets were heard.  
  
_Kitticula?_ She screwed up her face, and then shook her head with a resigned sigh. _Ah don't think Ah even wanna know._  
  
Still, she mused to herself as she too snuggled down, she supposed she'd missed Kitty's idiosyncrasies just a little while they were in separate rooms. Not much, but just a little.  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
Jubilee turned over and buried her face in her pillow, pressing into the softness until she was forced to come up for air. Deprived of oxygen, she jolted upwards, both out of suffocation and sleep, and blinked groggily around the darkened bedroom.  
  
The clock told her that it was past midnight, and she yawned widely, wondering what had woken her. She vaguely remembered dreaming about home, and being lovingly accosted by her foster Mother and Father as she walked through the door. They'd been so happy to see her, and she them. Paula and Conner Abrams had been two of the few people not to look down on the little orphan girl with no home, and never said a bad word against her - even when her burgeoning powers very nearly levelled their house. It had been so good to see them, never mind the fact they'd only bid goodbye to her that morning when she left to begin her new training at the Xavier Institute.   
  
In fact, her dream had been so real that she felt a pang at the realisation that she wasn't back at their house in New York at all. Instead, she was in a strange bed in an alien bedroom in an unfamiliar house.  
  
Turning onto her back, Jubilee contemplated the ceiling. Her sheets were cool, and a soft breeze caressed her face. She shivered, and then wondered why she was cold. Amongst other things, Kurt had informed all the new recruits that their rooms were equipped with central heating, and she'd made sure to turn it on before going to bed.  
  
She twisted her head a little towards the breeze, and saw with some surprise that the French windows leading out onto the balcony were ajar. She scrunched up her nose, certain she'd closed them earlier. Perhaps Rahne had opened them again. But why?  
  
Thoughts of her impromptu roommate made the oriental girl look towards the camp-bed where Rahne had elected to sleep. It had surprised both Jubilee and Jean - once again going against her better judgment and showing new recruits to their rooms - that the Scotsgirl chose to forego the bed to her new companion, but Rahne was quite firm about the arrangement. She said she was used to sleeping on the floor, which caused a few raised eyebrows, but when she'd been unwilling to say more they hadn't pressed her.   
  
Looking back at the ceiling, Jubilee heaved a deep sigh, and shivered. Her pyjamas were thin, made up of some kind of mock silk, and did absolutely nothing as far as insulation went. Idly, she pulled each side of the collar in a little closer in an effort to retain some semblance of heat and burrowed down, only to realise that at some point during her dream she'd taken walking back into her house a little too seriously, and kicked the majority of bedclothes onto the floor.  
  
_No wonder I'm cold,_ she thought, sleepiness and shivering making her irritable. Leaning half off the mattress, she groped blindly for the blankets. However, they remained out of reach, and she stooped yet further, letting out a small squeak when she leaned too far and all but toppled out of bed completely.  
  
One hand braced against the floor, she tried to push herself back in, failing miserably and only sending blood rushing to her head. The point between her eyes began to throb tellingly, and with a sigh she extracted her other arm and grabbed at the headboard, levering herself up that way with many dubious squeaks of wood.  
  
_Hope I didn't wake Rahne with all that noise._ There had been no movement from the sleeping bag on the floor, but just to make sure, Jubilee craned her neck to better see the other girl's face. However..._What the - she's gone!_  
  
And indeed she was. Rahne's sleeping bag lay unzipped and thrown open, and there was no sign of her anywhere. Frowning, Jubilee negated her recent struggle and clambered out of bed. She touched it. It was cold, indicating Rahne hadn't been there for a while, either.  
  
_Where would she go in the middle of the night?_ Glancing at the door, Jubilee mentally checked off that route, since the privacy bolt was still in place and it could only be opened or shut from the inside. _No bathroom break, then. So where did she go?_  
  
Wondering whether Rahne's mutant abilities also included teleportation, it took Jubilee a moment to hear the strange noise. When she did, however, she pricked her proverbial ears and listened intently. It was an odd sort of sound. Snuffly, like that Logan guy when he was scenting for something. He'd done that often enough on the way back from the airport for his passengers to think him certifiable, before being explained to about the nature of his powers.  
  
Yet this snuffling was different. It sounded somewhat choked, and rather than the cautious sniffing Logan was given to, the snorts seemed random and reflexive.   
  
Tracing it to the French windows, Jubilee crept over as quietly as she could and grasped the gauzy fluttering curtains in one hand, drawing them guardedly back to peer out onto the balcony beyond. And then stifled a gasp.  
  
A strange figure sat perched out there, legs draped over the rail and hands gripping onto the metal in a most precarious position. It appeared to be staring at the moon, though its face was hidden in shadow.   
  
Yet it wasn't this that caught Jubilee's attention. What made her stare was the fur the figure was liberally covered in.  
  
Unlike Kurt's velveteen blue, this fur was a shaggy russet, and blew every which way as the chilly night breeze wafted through it. It peeked spikily out through the seams pale green nightdress, crowding over the lacy collar and cuffs, and a bushy tail hung limply down like a rudder on her side of the barrier.   
  
The only thing familiar was the clothing, and Jubilee gulped before venturing, "Rahne?"  
  
At once, the figure whipped around, and Jubilee peeped in alarm at the sight of long yellow canines, a quivering black nose at the end of a long snout and furry triangles where ears should have been, taking an inadvertent step backwards into the room.  
  
For her part, Rahne - for it was indeed her - looked equally alarmed, and turned her face away again. But not before Jubilee caught sight of the embarrassed expression briefly flitting across her altered features.   
  
Berating herself for being afraid of her own team and roommate, Jubilee gathered up her courage and stepped out onto the balcony. She immediately shivered, but took another step forward until Rahne suddenly snapped at her.  
  
"Stay there! Don't come any closer!"  
  
Such was the vehemence in her voice that Jubilee stopped, wrapping her arms about herself and wondering what exactly was going on. "Rahne?" she hissed, teeth chattering against the cold. Surely it wasn't meant to be this friggin' cold in Summer? "Rahne, what're you *doing* out here?"  
  
Even as she watched, the fur started to recede back into pale flesh in the same way it had done that morning when she first met them at the doors of the Institute. Russet gave way to skin, the tail balded and shrivelled away under the hem of the nightdress be absorbed back into the spine, and the floaty fabric drifted down and settled as the body beneath thinned and sculpted itself back into human form from the half-wolf it had been previously.   
  
When the metamorphosis was done, the two girls remained where they were, not speaking until finally, Rahne broke the silence.   
  
"Sorry," she said uncomfortably. "I don't usually let folk see me like that. Not pretty, I know." She sniffed, and brushed something from her eye, wobbling unsteadily on her perch as she did so. "It's a bit of a shock at first, especially without any warning, so like I said; sorry."  
  
Jubilee patted herself, trying to retain some warmth. "Don't be. I just wasn't expecting it, was all. I shouldn't have reacted that way, so I'm the one who should be apologising, not you. But Rahne, why're you out here anyway? Why aren't you in bed?" She tried to walk forward, but was halted mid-step again.  
  
"Look, I'd appreciate it if you just stayed there. Or even better, if you went back inside." Another sniff, like she had a blocked nose or similar.  
  
Thoroughly confused and intrigued in equal measure, Jubilee shook her head and said a little irritably, "Not with you balanced on that thing. At least get off there. You'll fall if you're not careful."  
  
"I never have yet," Rahne muttered cryptically, more to herself than anybody else.   
  
Jubilee sneezed and rubbed at her nose, wishing she had a tissue. "Jeez, you're gonna catch your death out here. Come back inside where it's warm."  
  
"I'm fine here, thanks."  
  
"Rahne - "  
  
"Look, will you just leave me *alone*!"  
  
She reeled back, stung by her words and surprised at the savage note in the amiable Scotsgirl's tone. "Rahne - "   
  
"Go *away*!"  
  
Now, Jubilee was one of those people who is considered loyal by those who like her, and a stubborn, interfering busybody by those who don't. Whichever way you saw it, she wasn't the kind of person to abandon those in need. Or at least, those she deemed in need. And right now she estimated the straggly haired girl sat out on the balcony as very in need indeed.   
  
So she promptly ignored Rahne's express wishes and went to stand by her side anyway.   
  
"Rahne," she said quietly, but the words died in her throat as she saw the wet sheen formerly hidden by facial fur gleaming softly in the moonlight. "Rahne? What's wrong?"  
  
Blinking, Rahne swivelled her face away and wiped hastily at her cheeks. "I thought I told you to go away," she gritted from behind her hand.  
  
Jubilee frowned. "Y'know, bumblefuck in the morning isn't my most accommodating time, and I'm getting pretty cheesed off at this. Now, we can go around in circles until the sun comes up, or you can tell me what the matter is and we can get it fixed and go back to bed while there's still sleep to be had."  
  
Rahne exhaled noisily, and gripped the rail with both hands, shifting her weight to better steady herself without a tail to do it for her. "You can't fix it. Not unless you own a handy 'plane or teleporter, that is."  
  
"A 'plane?"  
  
"Och, forget it."  
  
Something clicked inside Jubilee's brain, and her scowl softened. "You're homesick, aren't you?"  
  
At last, the lycanthrope turned around and met her eyes, and without having to say a thing Jubilee knew she was right.  
  
They didn't talk for a few minutes, and just stared at each other until Rahne looked away again and gazed out across the moonlit grounds of the mansion, a wistful expression playing about her face. Jubilee watched her for a moment, and then followed her line of sight and they stared out together.  
  
"I know I'm probably overreacting about it," came the breathy whisper after several minutes. Jubilee's eyes twitched sideways, but didn't stay there, allowing Rahne some small amount of privacy. "But... y'know. It's not like I can just go for a visit whenever I want. Don't get me wrong, I like America, but....but...."  
  
"But it's not home," Jubilee finished.   
  
"Aye."  
  
"Have you talked to anyone about it?"  
  
A sigh. "I didn't want to. The way I was brought up, you deal with your problems on your own. Sometimes," she tilted her head, letting the moonbeams stroke her skin, "Sometimes I come out here and just look at the moon. It helps. I think about how I'm not really away from Kilcuthlie, because it's still the same moon, still the same stars, still the same sky here as there."  
  
"Kil-whatchamacallit?" Jubilee's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "But I thought you were from some place called Muir Island?[21]"  
  
"Kinda." Rahne shrugged, and brought one knee up to hug to her chest in what Jubilee, had she been a psycho-analyst, would've judged a defensive posture. "I came here from Muir, yes. It's a research centre into genetic mutations and mutants, like us. The Doctor there, Moira MacTaggart, she'd been helping me learn more control over my powers. I already had quite a bit, but she honed my skills so I could shift on command, rather than have 'em governed by emotion the way there were when I was a bairn."  
  
"Bairn?"  
  
"Little kid."  
  
"But I thought you only just got your powers, same as the rest of us. Professor Xavier said mutants only show up when they reach adolescence."  
  
Rahne shook her head, a little sadly. "Nah, I've always had 'em. The way Moira worked it out, my parents were probably both carriers of a latent X-gene, which means technically I'm a second gen, even though neither of them ever developed powers. Second generation mutants work different to first gens. Like Kurt, for instance." She lowered her gaze, and traced the path of the ivy creeping towards her window with her eyes. "But I wasn't born on Muir. I only stayed there for a few months, until the Prof. had a place ready for me here."  
  
"That place you said before. Kil... Kilcu..." Jubilee's tongue struggled with the odd word, fighting the dissonant syllables.  
  
"Kilcuthlie," Rahne corrected, not unkindly.  
  
"Uh, Yeah. Is *that* where you're from?" Jubilee felt a little guilty at having to ask. When Rahne had said she was from Scotland, she'd never thought to ask where exactly. The country was so far distant from her own that somehow it'd never crossed her mind that it, too, could be divided up into sections, cities and towns, just like any other.  
  
Rahne bobbed her head, and said almost inaudibly, "You've never seen a place like it. People think that just because they see pictures of mountains, or watch video footage, that they know what it's like to see one for real. But they don't. There's nothing quite like it in the world. To stand on a mountainside and realise just how small you are compared to the rest of the world, it's.... Humans, we all think we're the centre of the universe, but it's humbling to be confronted with the obvious fact that we're not. I lived in Kilcuthlie almost all of my life, but somehow, even when you see it every day, you never get complacent about the place. It's so far removed from any other town that a lot of people don't even know it's there. Folk used to say," here she laughed, but it was a strangled sound, "That the sheep outnumbered the people up there. Probably right, too." She drew a hand across her face, and it came away wet.  
  
"It sounds lovely," said Jubilee, and meant it.  
  
"It is. Nicest place in the world. I only left it because I had to."  
  
Jubilee sensed that it was better not to pry into that particular area, and so settled for saying, "Perhaps Xavier can arrange for you to go visit sometime. I mean, I know it's pretty far ahead, but come Christmas - "  
  
"I'll be back at Muir Island. Kilcuthlie might be my real home, but... but I can't go back there again. Please, don't ask me why," she cut off the question before it could be asked, and the oriental girl was left feeling bemused and at sea as to why she couldn't go home when she evidently felt so strongly attached to the place.   
  
Without warning, Rahne abruptly spun around on her perch and hopped off, touching down on the floor with bare feet and shivering. "Yeesh, it's cold," she said, and sneezed onto the front of her nightgown. "Eeew!"  
  
Jubilee stood up straight from where she'd been leaning on the rail. "Well, I *did* try to tell you."  
  
"Hey, when you're covered in fur, things seem a lot warmer than they are," came the retort, accompanied by a wan smile that told Jubilee the melancholy conversation was now closed. Still a little puzzled, but willing to let it slide of that was what Rahne wanted, she nodded and rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well *some* of us don't have that luxury. Come on, let's go back inside where it's a few degrees above zero, at least."   
  
They went back in, chuckling, and Jubilee shut the window whilst Rahne bounced into her sleeping bag and zipped up the side until only a few dishevelled bits of hair poking out of the end signified there was a person inside at all.   
  
After making sure the heating was on properly, Jubilee followed suit, retrieving her blankets from the floor and rearranging them before climbing back into bed herself. However, when she had only one fot submerged in the covers, and muffled voice piped up.  
  
"Jubes?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks. For talking to me, that is."  
  
Smiling to herself, Jubilee finished getting into bed and snuggled down until her breath reflected back into her face and tingled warmly against her skin. "S'alright. That's what friends do, isn't it?"  
  
"We friends then?"  
  
"Might as well be. It'll be convenient, us having to share a room and all."  
  
She could feel the smile hanging on the air when the next answer came; tentative, but so genuinely warm that it put her blankets to shame. "That's alright then." A pause. Then, "I'm glad."  
  
Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad to live in, after all, Jubilee mused to herself. It wasn't home, not for any of them. Not yet, at least. But she had a feeling that some day they'd come to view it just as strongly as the original students did. _And that's pretty darn strong._ But until then...  
  
"Goodnight, Rahne."  
  
"G'night."  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
  
FINIS.  
  
  
~ ^_^ ~   
  
  
  
[1] Reference to InterNutter's fic _'Til There Was You._  
[2] More referencing InterNutter's fic-verse, which itself references the comic-verse where Kurt was chased and nearly burned at the stake by a mob who thought he was a demon because of his appearance.  
[3] 'Ou esse homem do diabo Logan' ~ Or that devil man, Logan.  
[4] Exactly what Miss Hoover of 'The Simpsons' fame says to calm herself down.  
[5] 'Relógio para fora!' ~ Watch it!  
[6] 'Inferno do caralho!' ~ Fucking hell!  
[7] 'Que no mundo era aquele?' ~ What in the world was that?  
[8] Aren't psychosomatic illnesses fun?  
[9] 'Warum runzeln Sie die Stirn?' ~ Why are you frowning?  
[10] I don't *think* he's trying to sound like Joey Tribbiani, but you never know ;)  
[11] 'Es tut mir leid' ~ Sorry.  
[12] 'Este lugar mantem-se apenas começar mais estrando' ~ This place just keeps getting stranger.  
[13] 'Nutter-verse again.  
[14] 'É como algo de um filme!' ~ It's like something out of a film!  
[15] Hotboxing is when you smoke a cigarette *really* fast.  
[16] 'Um urso do teddy' ~ A teddy bear.  
[17] More 'Nutter-verse!  
[18] 'Meu urso do teddy.... era um presente' ~ My teddy bear... it was a gift.  
[19] 'Eu não posso dormir sem ele' ~ I can't sleep without it.  
[20] No joke, this was the title of a book I once read as a child. And people wonder why I turned out the way I did?  
[21] And here we enter the territory of my as-yet unfinished Rahne-origin fic that I started last Summer. Don't pick on me for the details being different to comic-verse. This is Scribbler-verse we're talking now. One of these days I'll get it finished and then all will become clear. 


End file.
